*A joint writing effort by Morgan Beal and her mom, Lori Beal.
Morgan's site is poetrypoem.com/morgansmusings
Lori's site is poetrypoem..."Musings by The Poet Loriet"
We wrote this together while Morgan was home sick from school and we reflected on the meaning of the phrase "pink slip"~enjoy!
He was a thousand men
morphed into one body.
True, they had their good times
but it had come down to this,
"Goodbye, Senor. I will miss you."
They were not meant to be.
She reminisced about the past,
him down on one knee,
slipping a diamond treasure
onto her dainty hand.
She thought he could be
her everything--she was wrong.
The ring clinked on the
polished wood of her cherry dresser
as it fell, echoing her decision
to the vaulted ceilings above.
She put the finishing touches
on her icy makeup,
buttoned her cotton blouse
and watched the minute hand
creep across the clock's face.
The final hour had arrived.
She retrieved the ceremonial lingerie
from the top right-hand dresser drawer,
her pink slip...
slid it underneath her skirt.
As soon as he saw her,
he would know.
A tear slid down her cheek
as she grasped the steering wheel
of her platinum pink corvette.
She drove down the road
absentmidedly preparing
to meet the end of her dreams.
The satin slip was so cold
against her thighs,
cold and polished,
demure, but full
of poisonous
goodbyes.
