Nickel, a poem

Nickel

A penny for my thought?
It’s worth at least a nickel;
yet it can be bought,
though you may find it fickle.
It does float here and there,
alighting as it will
then flitting off to where
it might find its fill
of what is and might be
and maybe what can not.
So I’ll let you see —
is that nickel all you’ve got?

Stephen Brooke ©2025