OctPoWriMo-Poem 1 Pennies

He turns the pennies over in his palm
Looking for the year he was born.

Not finding or not recognizing
He says, “This true oh my soul.
I was born, but not into any of these years.”

The wind blows damp down the back street,
Weedy, neglected behind the tracks.
All his life he’s returned here.

He stands today,
turning over a handful of pennies.
Looking for his beginning.

Not now. Never will.

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2 thoughts on “OctPoWriMo-Poem 1 Pennies

  1. Sarah S. says:

    I found this to be a bit on the tragic side. I guess it struck a personal chord. Poem-wise, well written. The words reach lengths when it comes to imparting emotions. I look forward to reading what else you have in store for OctPoWriMo. 🙂

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