Pockets Poem by Peet Thomas

How much will your pockets hold?

I remember young, lolly scrambles
When they would fall between my fingers
And the others would gather the fallen

But how much will your pockets hold

I hadnt thought to hoard

The things I missed would be found again
But my hands held enough

Would there be room enough
For more than you to play
With your bulging pockets?

Surely you’ve seen us all
Standing at the side
Queueing to be part of your life
While you run frantic
Removing the reasons
For us to meet