Monday, September 14, 2009

My Grandfather’s Coin Purse

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Real leather—not cheap imitation

A metal frame—hinged—with clasp

Still works

Opening with a finger-flip

There’s the button-down pocket

Well-remembered.

“D’you wanna get a soda-pop?”

Those trips to town recalled

With warm sensations arising

From somewhere deep inside.

Out would come the leather treasure pocket

Never failed me.

I have it now—carry it with me

Just like he did—(He’s gone—cancer got him at 76)

Leather separating from metal

And grain nearly worn off in places

Speaks volumes.

1 comment:

  1. One of your best M. Both the photo and the writing.

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