My Still Bank

By Rose Marie Juan-Austin

When I was a little girl
I have a tube coin bank
An enclosed bamboo segment
With a slit at the side
It was one of the walls
Of our little house.

I inserted a nickel
From time to time
The remainder of my school allowance
My parents gave me.

Sometimes I want to put a dime
And I will buy
A boiled banana or sweet potato
For lunch.

Some years later
My father worked overseas
Our simple abode
Was renovated
From a bamboo house
To a stone house.

My coin bank
Was hammered and crushed
The money within
Were scattered all around
I cried when I got
My nickels and dimes.

My mother gifted me
A porcelain piggy bank
In lieu of the damaged one
It came from the finest pottery maker
In town
With holes in the belly
And in between ears.

My school allowance increased
I put quarters in my new coin bank
When it was full
I got all the money inside
And went straight
To the nearest bank.

When I finished school
My piggy bank
Is still fit for use
I handed down
To my favorite nephew
He kept it as the foundation
Of a valued trait.

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