a Lost son & a Faithful wife

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A lost son


Young lad, over your loss...

I have gone mad, my ill-fated cointoss...

The times a'sad, my will dated not by glory, only gloss...

and thus, ends my story now covered in moss...


....



A faithful wife


Stay your blade...

Away you fade, won't you stay?

Even if farewells were bade, and our ways astray...


I made a call, a heavily priced fall, this autumn's fall...


Could a soul shed tears if asunder'd?

Would a sole face fears that thunder'd? 


A mist surrounds any gist...

A twist of fate; would but arrive a gust, before next August...


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