Babe of six months,
made it’s cries,
along with greyhound,
family ties,
November breeze,
made cheeks cold,
as brand new eyes,
saw colours bold.
Boy of three years,
still it wept,
lo’ Mum and Dad;
a promise kept,
to teach first lesson,
calm and fierce,
as he watched,
above him, pierce.
He turned thirteen,
face now dryer,
ignored his curfew,
read a flyer,
light your own Guy,
with no care,
like-minded scamps,
were everywhere -
Young man explored,
just aged twenty,
greed was heart,
and thus, sought plenty -
impatient blast,
burnt his face,
then sore tears,
were back in place.
Sorry; still; aged
thirty five,
with his kin,
said he “tried”,
though, the sky show
did remain, but
was it cheer,
or warlord rain?
Thus, present day,
he cannot tell,
between a party,
or paid hell,
so, like a dog,
he stays indoors,
crawling around
on all his flaws!