Penny on the Pavement

Out for coffee, cold and gray,

and there it lay, in morning's way.

A penny, flat against the wet,

Lincoln’s ghost, I can't forget.

Down by the drain, where water flows,

a small, forgotten thing, it shows

the dirt of passing, the dull neglect,

a little coin, truly wrecked.

I gave it a kick, a gentle slide,

across the grimy, slick wet tide.

No luck to find, no wish to make,

just copper waiting, for goodness sake.

Left it there, where it had been,

another lost thing, unseen.

Worthless, almost, in the rain,

a tiny, quiet, forgotten pain.