Change from a previous shop,
Sits on her kitchen table
She picks some up and counts,
Ten,
Twenty,
Thirty cents.
She folds her fingers over
Her palm,
Coins,
Tightly clasped between
Her fingers.
One falls with a TWANG.
She now
has
but
Twenty
And
Two.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem