Token – part 1

once upon a time 
a token 
lived 
inside the crevices 
of a well-worn sofa 
moving from home to home 
sometimes finding itself in a vacuum 
filled with dust 
for years 
gaining dust 
spending some time in rubbish bins 
then out in the rain 
gaining rust 
oxygen reacting with iron 
invisible 
different 
everyone walking around it 
indifferent 
sometimes, on top of it 
once the token lay under a big truck 
monstrous really 
huge tires 
the token all crunched 
hiding 
it was raining heavily 
it could not bear more rust 
or so it thought 
what a silly thought 
of course, it could 
because then 
it sat many times 
timidly 
between the seats 
tucked tightly 
last row of the 
red bus 
or was it blue 
no, definitely green 
many years of moving here and there 
wishing 
to be seen 
to be held 
refusing to be in limbo 
unknown to the token 
a genie slept nearby 
all-powerful 
all-knowing 
cemented in its existence 
unlike the token 
hearing the pleas of the token 
it roused 
bored of knowing 
of ruling 
decided the token was useful 
to share some of its power 
an illusion 
it whispered 
some incantations 
as the token slept 
the last time 
completely invisible 
the next day 
at the first ray of light 
dawn 
suddenly 
the token 
was woken up 
rushed 
stripped 
surrounded by 
needed by 
the token was told 
it was the 
right colour 
and texture 
and shape 
and number 
and taste 
everyone wanted to hold it 
feel it 
shine it 
show it 
so the token basked in the glory 
after years of being on its own 
feeling all alone 
in its plight 
to be more than 
a token 
it felt good to be held onto 
put on display 
for short times 
or longer 
it did not matter 
all those hands on it 
the magnifying glass 
trying to get a piece of 
the rust 
oxygen reacting with iron 
built over years 
experiential wisdom 
accumulated 
it was not just 
a token anymore 
the genie whispered 
the token was lucky 
it was there 
at the 
right time 
right place 
when it became 
then it became
the token