Monkey money
When my son,
all blushing youth,
had a wish
I made it my adventure
to grant it.
When he wished for ice cream,
I got two scoops,
cold rounds of heaven,
so we could share the sweetness
because I like ice cream too.
When, eyes bright and innocent,
he wanted to play,
we'd explore Candyland together
and eat candy together
so that I could give him the full experience
of a world made of candy.
As he grew older,
he started wishing for money
even though he didn't know what it was,
and I convinced him
that the plastic monkeys
from the barrel were worth $10 apiece.
He always felt rich
and I got to keep my money
without being a disappointing parent
for a change.
poem by John W. McEwers
Added by Poetry Lover
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