Lost Coins of Poems

One golden coin of poem, under mother's frail old bed, hiding in it's bright darkness, undiscovered by who know's who, but here it is in my poetry book, and your eyes roll and loll along, to hide this coin in your purse. Two silver coins of poems, sleeping in the sea and on its bed, covered by the wriggling wrappers, of dancing old corals, hiding from straying sailors, who lustfully venture, seas that hide and hold, precious glittering coins or stones. Three bronzy coins of poems, laying and waning just over there, among those rubbish of cans, and dancing buzzing flies, by the side of cars path, and unnoticed by your eyes, but here it is in my poetic plate, as i shout "coins of poems for sale".