Currency exchange

She sat
quite still,
amongst used bus tickets,
fading supermarket receipts.
a money-off coupon would wrap itself
around her, whisper
We all expire
some time

She has grown dull
and he whose warm hands once held her,
cherished her
is tossing a shiny new coin.
Now and then he’ll fish her out,
contemplate her value
as a paperweight,
a trolley token.
One treasured moment
under his blue eyed scrutiny,
cut short
by the click of the purse:
she plunges back down
into oblivion.


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