Bun Pennies


When I was a lad at Rose Lane School, I saved
a century of pennies, to win a contest
at the Trustee Savings Bank in Garston,
by the old green gasometer, the rain-filled
graveyard, Adam de Gerstan's medieval well hidden
in the works of the old mill; the copper tang
of the old bun pennies in my mouth, the worn
surfaces oily to touch, Victorian coppers
as old as my Grandad, born in 1892
-- though not as old as Adam's well.

By Christopher T. George