Pieces of silver, coins of gold
What am I worth now I am old?
Hair granny grey like a cloud’s silver lining
The colour that shapes me, my status defining.
Coinage of cold, thirty pieces of silver
Will you betray or will you answer and save me?
In the home that’s not home, away in the country
Or will you ignore until the call of the grave free?
One day I will be gone and you will be me,
Don’t sell them your soul round the wide judas tree.
Think of the future, remember the past.
Everyone endures but nothing will last.
By Linda Prince
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