Talisman 

I kept it in my pocket,

smooth, lead black,

a perfect flattened sphere,

cold to the touch,

but warm on touching.

A talisman.

I picked it up that day

as we strolled,

hand in hand.

We had to squat together

to select it from its brothers.

A chosen one amongst many.

At the end

when our hands no longer met,

we walked there again.

He picked a few up

and skimmed them angrily

into the foam.

I gave him mine to throw away.