Currency of Lives

Fingers feel the texture of paper worn thin,

each crease tells a story of where it’s been.

A dollar exchanged, it’s a currency ripe,

for dreams and despair, for songs and the hype.

The busker on corners, he strums with a grin,

with a hat full of hope, waiting for coins to slip in.

Yet the weight of this bill holds more than it seems,

it carries the laughter, the sorrows, the dreams.