The son hoped that the father loved so well;
Demanded such an early gift of cash –
His spirits gently rose from love’s compell.
He went away, so soon, bidding farewell
And quickly, wildly spent the giant stash;
The son forgot that father loved so well.
Now gambling, dancing with Mademoiselle
DuToit he stepped up with a perfect dash;
His spirit gave no thought to love’s compell.
But famine cruelly struck; he was unwell;
He envied, yearned to eat the piggy’s mash;
The son reduced. His father grieved as well.
Returning boy, the watchman gave a yell
Of joy; was running, gifting with panache;
His spirits rose and longed from love’s compell.
‘Reported death was a mere bagatelle.
He lives! E’en so he caused my teeth to gnash!’
The son now knows his father loves so well
His spirit’s welcomed back by love’s compell.
No comments:
Post a Comment