Churchill Coin

The coin was heavy, silver and dirty.
I let it fall from my hands
just to hear the clinging echo the walls.

I grasped for the coin and I studied it.
It had taken me back to its birth year

I sprinted to the place my father had resided.
His mothers’ house to see my grandmother one last time.
Her ebony hair was still,
As was the newborn baby in her lap.
Mimi, was her name.
Mary at best.
I miss her laugh, smile and hugs.
I could’ve spoken to her more,
I should’ve spoken to her more,
Before she passed.
Tears like liquid silver dripped from my illuminated eyes.
She smiled down at the child in a way no one could impersonate.
It was peaceful.
I placed the coin on my hand.
It was time to go.