The Weight of Wanting

The wallet's weight echoes emptiness near,

a reminder that nothing feels solid when here.

At the grocery store, I fumble through cash,

knowing the apples are a luxury splash.

With each crumpled bill, I face the tight squeeze,

a calculation of want that brings me to knees.

Expired coupons dance like ghosts in my mind,

a melody of scarcity, a harmony blind.

Counting the pennies like seeds in the dirt,

as I wish for abundance, it all feels like hurt.

Yet somewhere in the void, hope flickers and gleams,

for the weight of wanting ignites hidden dreams.