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The Sixpence

 

She could not remember how she arrived

at the house

She wasn't cold 

But, perhaps a little damp

She looked down, and wiggled her toes

The varnish chipped & blackened

Then looked up at the wooden door

painted silver by moonlight

In her palm was a sixpence

It was warm and shone brightly

She glanced over her bruised shoulder

to where the well was a silhouette 

There was something swaying

in its shadows

But, still, she thought of throwing it in

And yet, the door was right in front of her

She could hear its gentle hum

But, also, a hint of uncomfortable mumbles

 

Too many broken dreams

unpick mental seams

She smiled. Her Mother

 

The door creaked

The well beckoned

And the wind whispered through her hair

A lullaby, or an urban myth?

Nothing was as it seemed

But she always knew that

 

Even before the sixpence

 

◄ A Sunflower In A Winter's Field

A Place For Mushrooms ►

Comments

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Stephen Atkinson

Wed 6th Oct 2021 12:52

Thank you very much for the comments Brenda & John! Glad you liked it. ?

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Brenda Wells

Tue 5th Oct 2021 18:01

A really interesting piece, filled with possibilities which you leave the reader to puzzle out for themselves. Brilliant!

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John Coopey

Tue 5th Oct 2021 07:41

Beautifully understated, Stephen. Reminded me of the dream sequences in “Spellbound”.

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Stephen Atkinson

Mon 4th Oct 2021 22:50

Thank you for reading & your comments Keith & Stephen ?
And KJ, perhaps she just found an old sixpence
Near the well? Had she been in the well, is that whys she's bruised, damp & bare footed ?
Who knows ? but thanks for commenting.
And for the Likes Stephanie, Holden, Rudyard & Aisha ??

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Stephen Gospage

Mon 4th Oct 2021 17:15

'Nothing was as it seemed". Yes, an interesting poem full of ambiguity.

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kJ Walker

Mon 4th Oct 2021 07:31

A very interesting write.
You do not tell us her age, but I would assume her to be a young girl.
When was it set..... Obviously pre-decimalisation .
What has she done or is about to do for a tanner.
We are left to fill the gaps in with our own imagination, and that is what I liked about this one.

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keith jeffries

Sun 3rd Oct 2021 22:49

Some very clever writing here Stephen, which cannot but fail to intrigue the reader by its oblique descriptive quality.

Good poem
Thank you
Keith

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