Monday, April 5, 2010

National Poetry Month - 4


My Grandfather’s Coin Purse

Real leather—not cheap imitation

A metal frame—hinged—with clasp

Still works

Opening with a finger-flip

There’s the button-down pocket


“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.

Milan Hamilton

April 26, 2007

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