Pandora’s Box
Amanda Morris
Wishing on a distant
Star,
A Summerdance of
Belief
That beats a fragile
Rhythm
Held tight inside
Slender, clenched Hands-
Cradling dreams,
Your eyes speak
I am drowned in
Hugo’s child-
A novella of your
Telling,
You appear
Again
Inside a padlocked
Door
Inside Portcullis and
Palisade.
I question my
Hand
In letting you
Enter.
Is this what Wishes
Are made of?


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