The Wishing Well

The Wishing Well

I hold a coin, smooth and cold

its weight familiar in my palm

I lean over the well

its water dark and quiet

I whisper a plea for abundance

for enough to fill the gaps

enough to keep my heart steady

enough to keep my hands free

The coin slips from my fingers

plunks into the still water

ripples spread and vanish

I watch them fade

and hope the world hears

what my voice cannot carry

I turn and walk away

the well behind me

its depth hiding my wish

I carry only faith

and the empty sound of falling coin

maybe my lucky break will come soon