3 Pennies

A quick bundle of thoughts on generosity and understanding.

I threw my pennies in the bin.
Their rust agitated me
their copper bellies stained my hands
and tinged my fingers with copper bleed

I threw my pennies in the bin
because needless am I for 3 pence
needless am I for loose change
jangling, of course, past tense

Because my pennies are gone.
And now my pockets are empty,
their last jingle jangle song
sung - crowds dissipated

My pockets become filled
with tissues, receipts, bank cards
They don't sing but they do soften
my hands are homeless, barred

Do they miss the warmth the pennies could provide?
Do they miss the safety of my pocketed hide?

Perhaps 3 pence could have found a home,
After all, in a strangers palm on my mid city roam.