I have a cache of multi-colored
plastic cash in my pocket.
Like a rocket on the First of July
its burns a hole in my wallet.
Call it what you will, it is still
legal tender where people spend
twoonies like loonies. Her majesty
graces a bill with her bling,
Prime Ministers with sinister smirks
work their way onto these cheques
as well. Counting on Mounties to secure
the pure nature of the Great White North,
bought and paid for. My store of money
is kinda funny when the rate of exchange
is very strange , changing almost daily.
Saving it for another day,
another foray up Ottawa way,
working to pay the way, eh?

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides Prompt #405 – Money



I hover high above the promenade.
It is odd I hadn’t thought this
before. A Peace Tower bore
a gift of miles for me to view.

The sky was bright.
A bit of a chill but I was alright
to view this Ottawa city
on this August morn.

I was not born here,
but it is clear I could belong here.
An international capital
of great expanse,

I am in a trance, mesmerized;
beauty and tradition mark her
and sparks her allure.
I am sure I could belong here.

Allegiance is strong here,
Canadian seat replete
with history’s retelling,
pride swelling deeply for this place,

genteel and as real as I can tell,
a nice place to dwell as well
as visit. Is it the True North beckoning?
I am reckoning that this is

The start of another great foreign affair.
My daughter will soon be there
to take up a life as a wife.
And between us two, it is true.

I could belong here.

(c) Walter J Wojtanik