Nice. I found a 20 pence coin in the carpark of the supermarket today. Pocketed it, for old times sake, when 20 pence could buy something. Various parts of your poem reminded me of that.
I’m constantly picking up bits of junk. Earrings and bent chain. Spend more time looking at the ground than at what’s around me. But once I was in a bar and found a $50 on the floor. It didn’t take much thought to figure out who it belonged to, though, so I gave it to him. He was so plastered he didn’t remember the next day. But if I’d kept it I’d still be feeling guilty.
I’m amazed how people throw away loose change as if it’s a bent paper clip. I once turned a found 20 into a cashier, and she refused to take it. She said they didn’t have a list and found department.
“like a stray word dropped from the sky…”
Excellent use of the words. Well done.
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It’s always good to find treasures..i love the sense of adventure in this poem
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