Young Writers discussion

Face aflame, her dignity in shards among
The week old fish, stale bread sold for half the price
Bruised vegetables, that lay abandoned on the
grimy conveyor

belt. The heartless credit machine mocks her as
she steps out into the gray overcast street.
She peers in her musty leather purse, praying
For a miracle.

Old gum wrapper. Expired coupons. Key to
A studio flat only hers until the
Landlord takes a look at his accounts. Crumpled
Receipt. One Penny.

Was it but yesterday when she stood so proud
Her pink new sandals wet on the marble floor
A bright penny it’s edges digging into
Her sweat sticky palm?

The cascading fountain thunders above, her
eyes closed tightly, wishes bubbling up like a
River. A faint mist of pixie dust covers
Her cherubic face.

Dreams and Hopes fly in an arc, landing with a
Splash. Then sinking slowly into the depths, it
settles among many hundreds of dreams now
long forgotten. Lost.

And now, crushed by Life’s battles she remembers
The innocence of her youth. Faith. Her weary
Face upturned to the faint misty drizzle
She retrieves her last

Token of hope and casts it in the murky
Whirlpool by the gutter. With only the faint
coppery scent on her palm she walks away
Never looking back.

The imagery in this was fantastic. I love your word choice.

Thanks, I just learned how to do the imagery in college. I finally get what it means to show, not tell...