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Counting the Change

Their tokens clashing,

Beads and shells,

The ancients

Forged old metal coins.

Durable by state decrees -

Once were omnipotent,

Now disappearing by degrees...

One day, I found a silver sixpence in the soil -

And cleaned it, new-bright.

My sister say I had ruined it.

An early memory includes

A sock with a newly-minted coin at its foot

And chocolate coins at its top.

Later, most nights,

My parents would count

Their daily takings, as if pure gold.

Then put the cash in paper bags.

To save for our future, safe in the bank...

Next, in the 'seventies, when my parents

Were old,

Occurred a jangling surprise.

The state brought in new decimal coins -

Which they couldn't begin

To surmise.

Now, tender is threatened with its demise,

And something called 'bit coins'.

This virtual money is hard to handle, and very like little like lies.

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