When we went home, I ransacked

Mother’s jewellery box. There was

the watch, sitting deep in the felt,

wrapped in tissue paper. It sparkled

valuably. I imagined the big wad of

cash that would be coming our way.

I knew pawnbrokers were notorious

villains, but I vowed to be firm, and

demand a fair deal. There were some

rings and bangles too, but they were

clearly lesser trinkets. I put everything

in a fresh hankie, and stuffed the swag

deep in my coat pocket. Tomorrow

we’d visit the pawnbroker.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

709 thoughts on “Swag”