Frankie

Miles beyond her credit zone, she snatches at the breeze, all this stuff called loans, inflated or in despair, cries or laughs when pleases, love is absent on the stairs, but neither is she so alone, sheltered from other realms, a demeanour tight and honed, she'll stand and declare, tell them who they're dealing, not a little doll of hers, she’s never had a home, all its shadows and secrets, a tidal river on its flow, sometimes clothes she wears, need a little cleaning, some days she gets scared, but always a believer.