Ode to I Am the Messenger

Coffee is the solution to my morning ,
Nothing compares to the warmth on my tongue .
My gaze looks down .
The Newspaper reads “City in need”
In need of food, equipment, money, jobs, police?
So , I question and take a seat drinking the answer of morning .
Silence is the magic of the moment .
The door opened, not a creak ,
Nor sound to be audible .
Puzzling playing cards appear at my door .
The queen stands out the most with her heart torn apart ,
Beneath the mat and aside to the corner .
With intent I pause to close the door, though I cannot .
I catch my breath and choose to take a chance .
I lift the ragged rug ,take the card and grasping it between Mr. thumb and Mrs. index I close the door aware that the queen has fallen.
A miraculous card .
Curiosity killed the cat with one stare .
The stare was MINE .
I read the scripture written on it ,
Marcus Zusak
64Th avenue, NY 01001.
Am I the messenger?

by- Destini D.