Maclawrence Famuyiwa Poet Rhyme

This can't be your will

Dad, is this the will I once craved?
All your jewels you have sold,
On penury your will engraved,
A fortune no hands can hold.

Your will holds lies that I see through,
Nothing of worth it defines,
And your conscience never pricks you,
To waste heap your will consigns.

I wept you left me not a house,
Yet you built many, I know;
Not that I grumble or carouse,
But my spirit you laid low.

I thought I'd get more from your will,
For you died wealthy, you did,
Your writ reveals a barren till,
And leaves me all I forbid.

I am your only child alive,
Your legacy lies in vain,
The grave where your true wealth should thrive
Holds silence, loss, and disdain.

Perchance, this is but your feigned death,
Then spare me this cold meanness;
Grief I'll wrest from my labored breath,
Till truth is told with keenness.

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