My Lucky Penny

I spied a penny on the ground,
It was lying there all along-
Reached down and picked it up,
My pocket’s now its home.

Now that lonesome copper coin
Passerby do now disdain:
But this depression-reared boy
Remembered what it would buy again.

That lucky copper bought a lot
For this youngster of long ago;
A long braid of licorice black or
A jawbreaker to suck real slow.

For five of them, I could buy
a frosty cold root beer
An apple from that legless vet
Fought the war, from coming here.

Took ten of them together
To purchase a plump loaf of bread,
Or a quart of milk with cream atop
Or perhaps a colored spool of thread.

My hour’s work got four of them for
Picking a 40 pound box of prunes,
Or cutting the rip and golden cots,
Accompanied by old Gene Autry tunes.

Well those times are gone and past,
One cent won’t buy a thing today.
But my pocket’s still a jingling,
Reviving dreams of yesterday.

Category: Poems
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