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tin cup music

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Note:  This poem was originally posted on April 4th and reposted now so the photograph can accompany it.

as mornings grow colder i am reminded of a woman curled next to a steam vent in an effort to warm herself. a small tin cup like you might find in an army surplus store was positioned near her exposed face as the cold nipped away at her dignity. some faces are unforgettable. hers was one.

tin cup music

life’s story was etched on her face
carved with pocket-knife memories
rubbed in with grammar school erasers
and colored like heavy wet fog
on a stinson beach winter’s morning

smiles were kept tucked in her pocket
until a coin rang out like handel’s messiah
hitting the bottom of her tin cup
a reminder of how far she had fallen
in a life written like a fourteen-line sonnet

noise from darkened streets and shadowed corners
became comforting street sounds
as she curled in her coarse wool army blanket
now clutched to her chin and pushed by her toes
until she found sleep in her cocoon of warmth

then a little girl jumped on chalk-drawn squares
skipped rope and laughed while running into the wind
and peeked around corners in games of hide and seek
oh, she chased her puppy and hugged her kitten
in dreams constructed with yesterday’s pieces

awakened, she wondered when she last cried
tears no longer fell easily
and the gurgling complaints in her belly
reminded her that morning erased dreams
as easily as dreams erased the pain of living



Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 4/14/2019 6:41:00 PM
So sad the way we treat some people in our society. Very thought provoking poem. Have a good day.
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wayne tolbert
Date: 4/14/2019 6:46:00 PM
Thank you for reading and commenting David. Yes, it is sad and somehow I fear the situation is worsening...May little acts of kindness fill each of our days...Thanks again and you also have a wonderful day.