A penny sits in the middle of my hand.
Vaguely warm and slightly worn
But still shining brightly.
On one side you see the current residence of
The late Abraham Lincoln.
On the other you see the man himself
Facing to the right
As if watching for assassins.
I roll it around in my palm,
The rough edges scraping past my
Calloused hands.
I can almost hear it sigh
With relief as I put it back
Down again.