I found an old wallet the other day
It was worn and I wondered what had stayed
When I felt the old leather
as a familiar touch
I thought of what we shared - so much
I remembered the gift in love given
And how my spirits had risen
For it meant I was old enough then
Adult-hood had arrived and childish things ended
The old aunt who gave it to me
Put 50 cents so good luck would be
And tucked into a fold still so true
Was the lucky coin still holding its magic too.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem