Coins

When they fall on the ground.
They make a clanging sound.
Out of my pocket or from my purse.
Coins can sometimes feel like a curse.
Weighing everything down.
As I shop around town.
I don’t like to pay with dimes.
I pay with card every time.
But sometimes, I like having pennies by my side.
By the fountain, wishes I have tried.
Wishing for a day of ease.
But all I get is a sudden breeze.
Blowing my hat away.
So I take the rest of my coins for the day.
To waste them at the claw machine at the store.
So the curse of the coins goes out the door.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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August 24, 2024 at 2:47 PM
You're supposed to collect them. Money is for collectors. Silver money and gold money especially.
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