The Prodigal
Today I leave for my home,
I have spent years on the roam,
months sleeping under the dome.
Hungry with little to eat,
at home servants eat choice meat;
but here I live on the street.
I squandered my father's wealth,
and have ruined my own health.
A bad hand, I have been dealth.
"Though my conduct deserves death,
forgive me as you did Seth,
before you breathe your last breath."
Copyright © David Richmond | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment