Automated Teller

ATM

 

I, bankrupt

beggar; You,

bank machine,

manager

of reserves.

You, Giver

of good, grace

dispensing

like crisp bills;

I, endless

consumer

craving else,

spending gifts

like water.

You, lending

to paupers

currency

to purchase

Life; I, debts

mounting, limp

destitute

to soak up

charity,

walk away

with my hands

and heart full.

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Taking it to the Bank

mountain ash

 

Gold coins jingling

Coffers ringing with banknotes –

Counting Season’s change