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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1107138
Strange. Felt very emotional while writing it. Meaningful.
I had a penny
A copper coin
That gleamed like gold
When held to sun
That smelled of sweat
And metal's heart
As if it had
Brass hearts to beat.
I held it tight
Inside my flesh
My fist a shield
To hide it safe
From mind and eye---
All except mine
This copper penny
I had made mine.
How much's its worth?
Just a cent to all
All except these---
Myself and I
I see the gold
Gleam of its face
When held to light
Or just in dark
If it had a chance
I knew it would
Be the most expensive
Of them all.
It bought MY heart
And still holds true
To its purchase
As if still new.

I had a penny
That lived in me
That doused the pain
And ingnited glee
A copper fire...
Gold and sun...
Inside of me
Forever done.
A light somehow
Tied to bowels
That beat in rhythm
To brass sounds
My penny, my penny
So special to me
What would I do
Without my penny?
Not currency I care
Not beauty I love
But the light inside
A flame's bright shove
That knocks me clean
Right off my feet
Whenever I touch
The copper penny.

My fist, I clench
When trouble brews
And makes ominous
The upstairs room
I clench my fist
Hold scent in nose
And keep the penny
So very close
Until the cloud
Does cease to growl
And fades back
To light and white.

My penny's old
Worn gray in hand
My palm, the shield
And yet the age
That corrodes the copper---
What shall I do?
I cannot let go...
My only glow...
What shall I do
Without strings of gold?
The Quarter, so silver
Opposite of gold
Threatens my penny
Teases and tears
The merit of my penny
Saw by all the world...
Except myself and I.
I must save the penny.
I had it once
And am determined
To keep it close
Inside to light
The furnace of night
To keep the fires going
Glowing
Despite the night
The night of the Quarter
Oh, threatening value!
The people scream:
"A Quarter's more!"
But I shut my eyes
I cover my ears
And...
See the penny
Against my palm
Gleaming... dim.
A crystal losing life.
And desperate,
Tasting tears,
I take high flight
To the upstair's room
Where items galore---
String, paper clips,
Tools, and more.
My eyes are hungry
They eat it all
Until they find
The best of all:
A bucket of paint
Labled: Starlight Silver.
I run like mad
And drop the penny
...But it sticks to me.
Angry, I shake it
Til the penny falls
Into its bath---
Starlight Silver.
Then horrified I fell
To my knees
And dunked my hand
Inside the paint
Pulled out a clump
And brushed it off
Until the light
Caught underneath...
A golden hue.
I smiled like a child
And closed my hand
To protect my penny
That I have saved
By making the guise
Of a Quarter.
...But I could not feel
Those brass beats
Of a brass heart
Against my flesh.
The paint was drying
Suffocating life...
And I had a choice:
My penny or its life?
Give it up
or let it die?
Let it live
or keep it here?
When I love it
And no one else will?

In the end, I ran
Until I burned
And fancied the burn
Was the golden light
Of the penny...
And I let the penny
Fall from my grasp
And to the wind---
A free spirit
Now to live
Without my love.
On the wind
Carried my silver tears
To remind the penny
How I had saved it
To love it.
© Copyright 2006 Forest Dark (valentinroze at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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