2/26/11
They come and go like pocket change for me;
Familiar in the shape, but none unique.
For, I have many pennies, nickels, seen—
But none that I’d remember, none I’d think
To recognize or set apart as best.
Nothing uncommon, truly superb;
A penny, afterall, is like the rest.
My life remains so very unperturbed
By fantasies of love and grand romance,
Which little girls are taught to dream oft of.
But little girl, you never get the chance
To find in life a meaning--more than “love”.
We hammer in the nonsense all her life,
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