Antique Is Still An Asset

Like a gold coin, never gilded, I once was a valued asset, In good currency, well traded; But now with a down-sliding fate, I’m but a loose change, rotated, Rated below the face value, Close to expiry and dated, Whose pedigree’s no royal blue. And what’s more, depreciated at Value on a-written-down rate, Yet, is not antique an asset? Old is gold, no vain whim of pen, And though facing an exit gate, Not as if I’m a dung-hill hen! _____________________________ Tongue-in-cheek | 01.07.2012, revised Sept 2022 | sonnets Poet’s note: Getting old is a mixed feeling. Sometimes you feel great and enjoy the freedom you imagined and cherished for long when in thick of things, and at times you are down the dumps. These pulls and pressures between head and heart reflects in this tongue-in-cheek sonnet.