Perfect Gift
By birksy
From his pocket, the man pulled the gift; what they’d always wanted. Holding their breath, they waited, what would the stranger say? He whispered dreams, promised lands, they couldn’t feel the hands around their throats. Just follow me, the man said, took them through a hollow, gave them bread and water, told them it was a feast. Keep this secret with you, can’t let it fall to others, their too bad to understand, Just between you and me. Now they know nothing better, the dreams have come to beggars, keeping on to nothing, but that perfect gift. Written December 18th, 2001 © on Dec 21 2001 12:24 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 9
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"From his pocket, the man..."