end of an era
outside the pawnshop
i held those rings
in
my
hand
like
autumn leaves
on the turn of winter—
i felt the beautiful times
crumble in my palm
like
withered november leaves—
how could two rings
represent so much happiness
and then
so
much
pain?
like the last leaf
on an oak tree
winter winds shook me loose
from a numbing reminiscence—
i took a deep breath
went inside
and made the exchange
it was that simple
Cacti Fur 