Money

In the clink of copper pennies,
the weight of a pound feels both light and bold,
a silver note slips from palm to till,
whispering promises of queues and quiet dreams.

We chase the green of sterling notes,
stack them in wallets like secret gardens,
each pound a story, each pence a sigh,
buying tea, a ticket, a moment’s reprieve.

Yet money is a fickle neighbour,
sometimes generous, sometimes austere,
it paints the town in gilt and grime,
turning laughter into ledger lines.

So we learn to spend with careful grace,
to save a shilling for rainy days,
and remember that true riches lie
not in the coin, but in the heart that gives.