Pockets Pound
Before I left for my travels some weeks ago,
Before my trip into something anew,
Someone dear gave me a pound or two,
To keep in my pocket for something jolly or pretty or sweet.
On the first day, I put the pound in my pocket,
where it stayed for weeks while I’ve been walking around
looking and seeking if there was something I wanted.
I’ve been wandering along rivers at night,
staring into the windows of bakers showing fresh delicacies,
smells of fresh coffee lead me out of bed,
newspapers with funny or scary headlines tempted me,
But still, nothing is worth it, that money you gave me,
the sight of you from here is too frail
and the pound in my pocket,
will evidently be locket,
since all the sweet and pretty things in this world,
don’t bear the cost of a memory of you.
London, 10/03.