Your worn words and intentions fade away
As you’ve spun more tired rhymes to sway
Forgotten lies begot more lies crowning
The children cry; our forgotten blessings
Keeping your reach cold but for when loins join
Even the man on the street gains his coins
Elevating your head above the clouds
You no longer hear, see or smell seed sowed
Your children need to understand you first
In order to know why they feel so cursed
With the deep sins of their father immersed
Your children do them easily rehearsed
Knowing better the proof held underneath
Giving the children the chance for the wreath
Children forgiving fathers for their sake
Hoping to nullify their mistakes
© 2013 Michael Yost 06/30
Michael's Lair 