Mementos—Mentos—Minted Hoes—
I kept them—sugar-bright—
They chimed like coins of vanished Days
And melted—out of sight—
“A penny—for your Thoughts”—they plead—
Young Traveler—be shown—
Without the Coin—my Thoughts remain
Unpurchased—and my own—
I’d rather small Mementos—kept—
Go jingling—in my Pocket—
Than spend the Mind’s untendered Mint
On any passer’s Market—
A sucker—for Mementos—me—
I licked the Past—so slow—
Till Memory—ran Mint—and Green—
And named me—Minted ***
I tilled the loam of Once-was-Mine—
With sticks of sugared Stone—
And grew a crop of Yesterdays
No Present ever owns—
So laugh—if Loss tastes candied—sweet—
And Sense is overthrown—
For those who hoard their Mementos—
Are Mint Hoes—overgrown—