Loose Change, a poem
Loose Change
Regret, the loose change
of my life, is left
in a jar on the dresser
and never counted.
Each purchase, each time
I thought I needed
this, or thought that
would make me happy,
gives me another handful
of coins to add, to clink
one by one against
all I had hoped forgotten.
Stephen Brooke ©2013
A little quick piece, not very ambitious
addendum, the next day: As usual, the poetry I post here is in early draft form. I can see all sorts of ways this might be revised and rewritten. Right off, the first word (regret) should probably be dropped.
addendum, the next day: As usual, the poetry I post here is in early draft form. I can see all sorts of ways this might be revised and rewritten. Right off, the first word (regret) should probably be dropped.
