Monkey Money Poem by John W. McEwers

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.