Poetry

The time I found £45

I have many routes for my daily commute

and one early morning I walked the noisy way,

past beeping buses, meddling cyclists

and drivers who can’t keep their shit together.

 

It’s the quickest way to get to work for the day,

and I laugh in the face of commuters

squashed like sardines on steamy old buses

and people singing along badly with the radio.

 

I don’t believe in fate, but one thing that’s straight

is being in the right place at the right time.

I believe in luck sometimes, well

I certainly did on the day I found £25.

 

I sometime enter the lottery, which is normally a mockery

when you win a measely £2.80 for two balls,

but out of the corner of my eye, I saw

two notes lying alone on the grass behind a fence.

 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, was I on something high?

Well, I don’t take drugs, but I felt euphoric

seeing a £20 and a £5 note lying next to each other,

just within arm’s reach near the busy road.

 

I knelt down ignoring the driver’s frowns

and safely stowed the notes away in my purse.

I have no idea how long they were there for,

but I was lucky to get them before anyone else.

 

Finders keepers;

this world isn’t for weepers.

 

The following day I walked the same way

wondering if there’d be more money on the street.

Life didn’t seem real, because I found a

sodden £20 note folded among some leaves.

 

This had to be a joke, but it was lying next to an oak

tree, this time way out of my reach.

So I found a stick and retrieved my historical finding,

without caring what the commuters thought.

 

I left the note to dry and wondered why,

how so much money could’ve been lost,

carelessly left behind by someone’s mistake.

Money doesn’t grow on trees.

 

I have many routes for my daily commute,

but for a while I went the same way

past the endless, noisy, mindless traffic,

constantly looking away from it all.

 

All the time my eyes are looking for a surprise,

deceived by useless scratch cards, disposed snot rags,

crushed cans and bottles and 5p plastic bags,

crumpled receipts someone regrets having lost.

 

Someone’s looking for that money, it’s not funny

for them. It could be worth half a day’s work,

saving towards the next grocery shop,

a special gift for someone, but then again,

 

finders keepers;

this world isn’t for weepers.

 

© Clare Abbott (17/1/2016)

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8 thoughts on “The time I found £45

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