Becky

Today I thought I'd seen your face at the bustop, just behind me, outside where we spent the days together. 

You were like a silver coin unblemished in the setting sun the peak of your youth in wane did you know it then? Glinting nobly, the right side up -  your squint searched for something in the light I hope you found what you were looking for.

But sunken in archetypal cliches which you were supposed to defy, pleasure palls. Money can't buy  I know you'd trade up anything but it's a pity happiness You sink with currency, fade into a deadpan face on crumpled paper notes