Penny Well
A blue moon,
air quiet and still,
alone I sat,
on a stump, on a hill.
Just a glimpse,
her face, her smile,
sitting with me,
reflecting all the while.
Instead I awoke,
no word or hint,
where she sits,
where she went?
A new day dawns,
clouds full and gray,
no hand to hold,
jus’ walkin’ away.
As if on cloud nine,
captured by her spell,
tossing nickels, dimes, quarters,
into the penny well.
© 2005 Randolph D. Brown, Jr.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.