The Curious Case of Vanishing Bills (A Golden Tale For Grown-Ups)

In seventy-one, the tale began,

Nixon waved his magic hand.

“Gold’s too tight, let dollars fly!”

And thus began fiat’s slow goodbye.

The Pound said, “Cheerio! I’m grand!”

But gold slipped snarky from her hand.

Now worth point five—oh, what a trip!

That stiff upper lip began to slip.

The Euro danced in youthful flair,

“Brand new coin! Investors, stare!”

But now she’s aged, and not so bold—

She’s barely worth a gram of gold.

The Dollar flexed with stars and stripes,

He scoffed at goldbugs, mocked their gripes.

But decades passed, and lo and lo—

He’s down to one-oh-six or so.

The Yen was cheap, but held on tight,

Till ZIRP and QE stole her might.

Now she floats, a ghost of yore,

Half her worth from days of war.

The Franc, so proud with banking flair,

Held on longer than the pair.

But even Swiss can’t print escape—

She’s down by 95 percent in shape.

So children, if you save in cash,

Beware the thief that makes it trash.

Inflation creeps, it doesn’t shout—

It just erodes your wealth right out.

A coin of gold, though …