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Beads MAG
December 10, 2009
My friendship bracelet broke today,
as I stood alone at my doorstep;
The plastic pastel beads
danced across my “Welcome” mat,
a crippled ballet,
multicolored.
I couldn't help but think
about that endless summer night,
when we decided not to sleep.
Instead, we beaded.
And we said
that our bracelets had meaning,
that they would represent us –
that this flimsy transparent elastic,
and these hollow yellows and greens and pinks and blues
were more
than what they were.
That's probably why my bracelet broke today –
we sold our souls
to beads and string.
© Mary P., Norfolk, VA
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