Currency of Want

My wallet's thin leather, like skin pulled too tight,

a ghost of transactions, too empty at night.

I wandered past storefronts with glimmering lights,

and dreamed of the warmth of a coat for the bites.

Each window a promise, each price like a scar,

reminding my heart that I’ll never go far.

I counted the coins, but they whispered too low,

like wishes that linger, too fragile to show.