One side has the head of Licoln
With change you are given
While many people leave you for the next person
There is one thing for certain
You live in cars
In tip jars at bars
You are rolled
And dropped on the street in the cold
You end up in people’s pockets
Who knows you could have soared in rockets
You help us check our tires
And may help us buy our desires
You help us turn screws
And may end up in our shoes
While you are worth one cent
It is hard for you to get bent
Without you where would we be
The mighty penny we see
When we pick you up off the ground for luck
We will throw you in our truck
And wait for the next time we can see
How helpful the penny can be
About the Creator
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Masquerade Party
At six feet seven inches tall and approximately two hundred fifty pounds, Samael presented an imposing figure when he walked into a room. His physical stature may be impressive, but his demeanor is the opposite. The shy, some might say, reclusive personality that he developed as a young boy followed him into manhood. His favorite job was crunching numbers in a quiet one man back office of a fiduciary firm. He was always polite, greeting his fellow workers with a “good morning” or “good afternoon” as he walked to the back of the office where his little hideaway was located, but never tried to engage in conversations.
By Mark Gagnon3 days ago in Horror
Comments (1)
I so love this poem! It really is wild how much we actually use pennies...and you do an excellent job capturing how ever-present and uniquely helpful they are. Thanks so much for sharing! :)