I once was a shell of onion dust, littered to the side street sidewalk, pecked at by pigeons. Until you one day, kicked me into a wall, decided to pick me up, and put me in your pocket.  You took me home, scrubbed me clean, polished me ‘till I shined an iridescence.  You liked me.  And I no longer smelled.  You put me on the sunny side of the table, to shine, while you had your coffee.  I traveled with you, and your coins, in your pocket.  They would come and go, but I was special.  You gave me sentiment, by stroking my back with your hand when you stood still.  And the day I was forgotten, was the first day, of the rest of my loneliness.  All those days of me rubbing against your coins, dulled me to a grey.  Iv’e been sitting here waiting.  Not even sure where I am.  Day’s now.