Three coins lay in the palm of my hand.
What to spend them on? First, on your thoughts,
Your hopes, your dreams. It seemed a fair price.
Second, on a great white horse, still running,
The night clouds parting before its hooves,
As it makes its own path through the skies.
Third, on the gleaming ghost of a kiss,
Fragile, hung on a fine silver chain,
What’s left in the grate, when the fire dies.