$102,813

By Scott D. Zachary
Copyright 2003


I dreaded parting with them today.
It was not unlike saying goodbye—
To eighty-seven cherished friends,
With whom I’d never make amends.

As long as I knew they were mine,
Adrenaline rippled through my spine.
Their royal chingle made everything fine,
As long as I knew they were mine.

I used to melt gold Krugerrands into rings,
So I understood the feeling of such things.
The difference between three and eighty-seven—
Makes one lose sight of Hell and Heaven.

The numismatist’s eyes twinkled,
As he traded a score of papered bundles.
Somehow I felt cheated and began to despise—
Because I had given away my precious prize.

Saddened, my companions were gone.
I walked away, barely elated at my find.
Contented, their surety will live on;
Now, they only exist in my mind.