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Her Son

Plasted with gold and silver he is, But we hardly wear expensive attires, Washed with a hand full of detergents, But we are never called gents, Why because he is her SON. He is treated with loyalty, We are not even looked upon as royalty, He got everything at his finger tips, But we don't even have gloss to feed our hungry lips, Why because he is her SON He is more than a king, But we fight like wrestlers in a ring, He is followed upon for safety, This load is indeed hefty For only because he is her SON.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 11/1/2018 10:39:00 AM
A beautiful write, Wren. You always rise to the heights of wonderfulness in your poetry.
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