The Wallet



Deep within a threadbare tweed

Nestled sweetly where a heart once beat

Lay a splintered wallet.

Betwixt it’s skin lay the man’s treasure:

What his chest sang for.

She smiles soft

Glancing quiet, not shy

From within four well loved corners

Disintegrating from touch,

Or perhaps playfully turning away

Blushing from smiling gaze.

Lady leans in wait,

I like to think he filled his days

Labouring, yet longing, to reconvene

With the hidden wealth of his wallet.

I don’t know who they are

Or who they were

Or where their story led

But what I know is that the story

Was one of love.

A love that waited

Quietly in a breast pocket.




Megan Hopkin
Illustration Nick Victor


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