Art Heifetz

my memories of you
are like small coins
dropped last autumn in the yard
buried in the brittle leaves
blanketed by snow
and pressed into the soil
just beneath my feet
I raked one up the other day
and held it to the light
it showed you standing
on a hillside by the sea
your hair blown across your face
your laughter lost in the wind
so petite in your
high boots and corduroys
you could have passed for a schoolgirl
except for the unlit Marlboro
dangling from your hand

smiling I placed the coin
still damp
in my vest pocket
to keep it warm and safe