Another poem with the word 'token' - this time by the Dutch poet Menno Wigman

DON’T REST

Heaven consults no bible, and no star

spells the koran. But the good reader sees

each token as a blessing from on high.

Once you have visited a skinflint’s pad.

He wasn’t bad, poured draughts of air, served stones

and gladly toasted all his charms away.

Once you have shared drinks with a millionaire.

His laugh was loud, his gaze was solid, as

the money was that paid his fancy’s bill.

Don’t rest. Don’t rest until your pocket burns

with stars of granite. Lead your bank a dance.

Squander away. Follow your fancy. See

each token as a blessing from on high.