My Canada

The west made east with every mile.

Sod houses, beasts and country wile.

We made this land and lived in style.

But our cake needed icing.

Needed sweetness so enticing.

It sucked us all in.

How could we sin?

If a few died doing God’s bidding?

One Response to “My Canada”

  1. Ideas don’t live where they’re not wanted.

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