Her words are pennies
plummeting from a skyscraper
embedding deeply into the pavement
of my mind.
They are words.
to give purpose
to a blank page.
coming from her,
One or two mean nothing.
Though what happens when you toss
one or two
in a jar consistently?
She flicks in pennies as if saving for tuition,
but a jar can hold such meager pieces,
both in value and size.
They are pennies,
nothing more than a cent.
And yet they are.
They are more than a cent,
coming from her.
From her they are diamonds,
easily depleting the capacity of the jar.
Easily shattering the jar itself.
Easily shattering the mind itself.
Easily shattering myself.
For her words are plentiful pennies,
harboring the value of diamonds.
For her words are mine.
Originally appeared in the 2013-2014 edition of Outside In