Foundlings

Here in a new box, old coins
we spill them onto the carpet
and small fingers pick out treasures.
A farthing, worn smooth
once the price of a meal
Indian rupees, Iraqi drachma
souvenirs of imperial service
I think of my Grampee
young and splendid in uniform.
My sons make pirate cries.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Foundlings’ was first published by Allegro in the September 2020 issue: https://www.allegropoetry.org/p/issue-25-september-2020.html

17 thoughts on “Foundlings

  1. My dad collected coins and several generations of children played with them, wondering at their images. What a lovely poem to remind us of the history of something as humble as a farthing and as imaginative as children playing pirate.

    Liked by 1 person

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