Penny

A noble soul
Resides in profile
His face fixed
In bas relief
Upon a shiny circle

Blots of tarnish
Do not detract from
Words inscribed
Reminders of a legacy
Wrought like metal
From a fire

A face unchanging
Rolls across the table
Reflecting light
Then shadow
Before falling flat
With a soft tap
I pick it up for luck

His eyes gaze
Into the distance
But betray no emotion
What are his thoughts
Of the nation over which
He presided
But is yet divided
Over things not imagined?


Copyright ©2004 Juliet Krassenstein