A Penny for His Thought

He held forever in his hand once when
He bent to fetch a penny shining near
A wishing fountain, that had not sunk in
The shallow water, but lay on the concrete rim.
Silver coins scattered, lonely at bottom--
No copper pennies shone through the ripples.
Not one red cent, and he looked in his hand
Wondering how long this penny could last,
Or what it could buy, or what wish could
It grant, and he saw his reflection fading out
Fading in to waves and forms where
Faith once chided his arrogance when
He didn't stoop to pick up a penny
And save it for a poor box or someone's
Outstretched hand-- he laughed while
She took the penny while rebuffing his
Seeming scorn for those of few pennies-- though
She knew nothing of these having nothing
But their simple wishes drowned in dried up
Jest pools, or corroded in fountains of
Vitriol pumped through neglect--but what could
One penny do he wondered as she dropped
The cuprous coin in her purse of gold mesh,
Snapping shut his thoughts as the pool bottom
Came into view, and he wondered how it
Came to pass that the penny in his hand
Was lying by the side of the wishing
Fountain, imagining that the penny
Might have waited forever to feel him
Come to his senses to know what he held.

--Dr.M