Swinging open the door,
She stepped into the shop,
Only a day before,
Had been her last stop.
My eyes flittered,
From her eyes to her rings,
Dealing in all that glittered,
I wondered what she brings.
She sunk into a chair,
For all of a moment,
Then, having fanned her hair,
Announced her intent.
She was there to pawn,
What only her heart could spawn,
Beauty, so expertly drawn,
That facial crescent of the dawn.
I looked around,
What could I possibly offer?
What I found,
Was not from my coffer!
I wanted to shrine the shine,
And that teasing twinkle,
But, my heart she did decline,
Before I could inkle.
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