Copper Against Concrete

A coin wedged tight

in the crack of the sidewalk,

copper face dull but stubborn,

catching the afternoon light

like a small, lost thought.

The weight of feet passed over,

indifferent as rain,

smoothening edges

while it stayed put,

refusing to disappear.

I bent down and held it,

cold and heavy,

a bit of luck or nothing at all,

tucked beneath the world's indifference,

a stubborn flicker against worn stone.

It is nothing more than copper,

but in the hand,

a reminder that something small

can hold its place

against the slow erosion

of everything else.