Parking Lot Pennies.


How you blend in with the pavement,

No shine and loss of direction, you lie alone.

With your small size and lack of excitement,

you are unseen behind that bright traffic cone.  


Rain falls, cleaning off dirt and street gum,

As you slide down that water stream.

Feet race past you sounding like a bass drum,

While awaiting the sight of that first sunbeam.


Alone again in some place new,

A childs’ shoe stomps by your side.

By the light up shoe, you assume she’s two,

And pray you are not denied.


You hope she sees you,

As small hands reach down.

Now seeing the world from a higher view,

You realize you were a penny in a small town.


Tucked away in a soft, warm hand,

Your value gives you doubt.

But you pray you will be used for a wonderful plan,

Instead of being left in another flood or drought.


Home at last,

You are thrown in a jar.

Never to remind yourself of the past,

Or the bumpy way home in the car.


Years pass and dust collects on the jar,

Now full to the rim of loose change.

Helps the same little girl pay for a new car,

Understanding why parking lot pennies aren't strange.



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