Her cheeks were blossoms
pink from turns of friendly cards.
Before I turned the fool
for sequins laid, I drew
death (as if mortality
was nothing more than life)
Counting coins, she fumed and said:
“Every day awake, is a beginning
of your ends”
But as I counted days to years,
she faded into ink on vellum
for unfriendly cards.
60 words for Mama Zen’s prompt at toads.
December 4, 205