The Seven Ages of Treasure – with apologies to William Shakespeare - by Elizabeth Obadina

All the world’s full of treasure

And all men and women merely treasure seekers

Seeking in their lives, riches; most - impossible to measure

When every age differs on which treasure’s the sweeter.

 

At first the infant nestled in the parents’ arms

Seeks no other wealth than food and milk and warmth and love

Then grows to treasure sticks and stones and nature’s charms

Like feathers and flowers and random stuff.

 

Then whining youngsters; heads filled by ads and desires

Gleaned from tv and tablets and cunning campaigns

Which preach treasures are bought-things to which everyone aspires

Everyone, but everyone has these things they complain.

 

And then the lover; mostly wannabe – sometimes real,

Sighing like a furnace fuelled by dreams and opinions of others,

Which spews see-sawing notions of treasure - depending how they feel

About their faces and friends, their looks and admirers.

 

Then when they grow up to be a tinker, a tailor, a soldier or sailor,

A rich man, a poor man, a beggar man, a thief or whatever,

Working long lives of routine and hard labour

Then dreams fade out of reach; imagined, whimsical treasure.

 

And yet some, the justice and his peers, achieve wealthy middle years

And treasure power and respect, fine living with all good things of life

They expect peace and prosperity and nothing to fear

At ease in their castles which shut out the world’s strife.

 

The sixth age shifts what we perceive treasure to be;

However much money bought, however full that treasure chest

With baubles, investments and second homes by the sea,

Poor health and loneliness bring long nights of unrest.

 

Last scene of all, that ends this strange treasure-filled history,

Is second childishness, oblivion, wondering only what the next minute might bring

Whilst smiling and stroking pebbles collected on long ago trips to the sea -

Treasured memories, plain stones held dear whilst we sit,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.