A Penny’s Worth

 Johnny found an Indian head penny

under the seat in his first truck,

yellow Chevy pick-up,

spotted with primer paint,

pulled it out and asked,

Hey, sis, you want this?

You could put it on a chain.

Sometimes I take it out now

these thirty years later,

wonder about its worth.

Red Coin Book says

it isn’t valuable, not rare,

but those book people don’t know.

It’s a portal

through which I see him,

still seventeen,

shiny brown eyes,

shaggy brown hair

and wonder

what he might have been.


10 thoughts on “A Penny’s Worth

  1. there is a sense fo loss to this, yet there is a refrain to the sadness. such beautiful sentimentality without the tooth ache, if you know what I mean.
    wonderful job

  2. Ozy,

    Thanks so much. I do know what you mean “without the tootache” and I’m thankful you saw it that way. I feel like I’ve gotten out of the writing groove. I sat down for a while this morning and told myself, “write something…anything…just write” an email from a coin collecting agency prompted me.


    Thank you so very much. It’s a funny thing how a person can be out of our lives for a lifetime but the tiniest thing brings them back to us, just as we last saw them and heard them and it seems like they exist outside time and if they could come back and speak to us it would be as if no time at all had passed.


  3. How beautiful and sad that poem was. Beautiful to be able to remember a person so clearly, and sad when all you have is a memory. Hi, Nochipa, it’s Jo-Ann from Ars. Only the second time I’ve been on your website. I’m going to try to come more often.

  4. Jo-Ann,

    I’m delighted that you came back! Thank you for doing so and for your kind, kind words.


    I’m glad you came and I appreciate your encouraging words. Scot is an awesome poet so I’m flattered.


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