Silver Dime Makes A Fine River

Hi all,

The following is a recent short story I've written. I hope you enjoy!

The pride of the world could fit on a dime. She was convinced that if she squinted her eyes, she’d see tiny people skating on silver. The dime became her soul possession. She pressed it close to her heart and rubbed away the tarnish with her kisses. It swam in the cavernous depths of her pockets.

She was impoverished by circumstance but not in her mind. Her coat, withered by time and loss, hinted of her former glory. Her coat of colors, wine and rust, housed her sophisticated walk. Her cheekbones sloped along bronze complimenting her jet black hair. Pedigree leered at the line of poverty. Old age was but a speck on the horizon.

She was often mistaken as an heiress. Her belly fattened on her looks and charm. She turned her heels on the fashion district, and they besought her sphere of divinity. They regarded the antique silver as a link to her glory. Perhaps she was a descendant of the silver president. She buzzed with all the warm thoughts of the city. Her impoverished celebrity became the sweetest piece of irony.

She swam deep in a river of silver and thought not of the cares of tomorrow. His eye is on the sparrow, she smiled. I must be His masterpiece.