Nothing But Lint
Nothing But Lint
Nothing but lint
in my pocket.
It could be said
that I am skint.
I did have cash
to start the day.
But money,
no sooner earned,
is no sooner spent …
they say.
Now I sit alone
in a diner cafe.
Slowly drinking
one last black coffee.
But hey!
What is that
on the floor?
Near the leg of the table
by the door.
It's a new penny coin
all shiny with glint.
Now there is something
in my pocket … besides lint.
Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2012
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