Money is not time, yet
we cling to them both,
and we lament their loss;
both can be wasted, frittered,
misspent, thrown to the winds.
Coinage hoarded turns to dross,
its safety illusory, its value
a mere convention created
by people short on time.
Its glitter can never recall
a moment passed, or capture
a glimmer of eyes or fireflies;
for that we have a currency
increasing the more we share,
the wealth of our stories
set to words in poetry.
The NaPoWriMo challenge was to reverse a familiar phrase. I tried to tie in the theme of writing and to include a lament and the Daily Post word of the day.
....Bilocalalia.... 