Magic Coin

At every restaurant, the
beaming faces of
bus boys and
servers and
children
would gaze, mesmerized,
as my dad made the magic coin
disappear from his hand.
The coin swirled and swirled,
around and around,
teasing his palm.

And then it was gone,
each finger lifting
to show nothing.

And now he is gone,
but unlike his magic coin,
he will not reappear
to delight the crowd once more.