[Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect challenged us this week to write a poem with the phrase "loose change." I had several thoughts, but this is the one that got finished first.]
Loose Change
I pluck the dark pennies
from the bright silver on the table.
I examine the artwork on each
and save the old
ones with wheat sheaves,
in black plastic film canisters
in a desk drawer,
dimly echoing Dad's pastimes
of numismatics and photography,
but his favorite coins are framed
and hang on the wall in the light.
Friday, July 11, 2008
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6 comments:
I totally relate with this. I got my dad's collection.
tears trickle slowly
I like your dark and light contrasts in your poem. Coins can be shiny and dull. Very Clever!
Hi, Gautami. I knew you'd get this. I'll be over to read yours soon.
Hello, A Mitch. Glad you like this. Thanks.
I like this very much, I have a small collection of coins from various countries I've visited
I love this, (I'm like that with old coins too). And so well told!
Hi, Juliet. Thanks.
Hello, Andy. I'm glad you like it.
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