Pocket Charm

The plastic fish, too bright, too small,

slipped easy from the cluttered wall.

My palm was damp, a quick, small raid,

a secret pact I quickly made.

No bells, no shouts, no worried face,

just my own heart in its hurried place.

That tiny weight, a hidden thing,

a strange, illicit, private swing.

It lived inside my jacket for a week,

a cheap green fish, I couldn't speak

of how I got it, or its stolen grace.

It left no trace.

Just the knowing, somewhere deep inside,

of something gained, with nowhere to hide.