Seven beacons, one by one.
It started with the number one son.
He paved the way with tar and gravel.
For sometimes things would just unravel.
Number two, her spirit true.
She always did her best.
But no one get's to always be right.
Sometimes good will lose the fight.
Then number three did come to be.
Of course she lived in shadow.
Trying to add up one and two.
Her tally ended up too low.
Four gotten son was number one.
But only to himself.
He left a family far behind.
To collect dust on the shelf.
A third girl from a prior marriage.
The fifth to be pushed in a carriage.
The last of them from father one.
But alas, she wasn't done.
Along came Dad and sister six.
She added nicely to the mix.
But blended family's do grow up.
It didn't leave much in the cup.
Along I came, the seventh son.
She finilly said, that's it, I'm done.
I've often wondered why.
But somethings just are never known until the day you die.