Pockets Poem by Paul Warren

Pockets



As a walk along the street
And ponder who I may meet
I place my hands in my pockets
And find again those things that seem to fit

There is handkerchief that my mother
Pressed on me to keep me out of bother
And the boiled lollies for my diabetes
That I need in emergency feedings

With my wallet in my back pocket
My identity as the world needs it
So I carry what I need in those folds of fabric
Scant and perhaps the only things that fit.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Sunday, February 19, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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Paul Warren

Paul Warren

ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA
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