Continued from yesterday’s A Poet’s Story #3

So we rolled about
Lost in a moment of ecstacy
Round and round, to every corner we went
It was a series of chase and surrender
Filled with unending desperation
And soon we got to the zenith of it
As we conquered this sacred quest
That is when we got to my son’s hope

Click here for photo

He’d been holding on, crying as I did
Only that between us was an emotional divide
And on each side was the opposite difference
When we got to him, our weight bore on him
And fragile he was, another moment of surrender
Yes, we killed my son in pleasure
Yet in it we made not another
As his flesh gave in to our weight,
We minded not, but our moment ended
We fell back still lying on his innocent body
I could not hear his struggle
Only the whispers of my king.

To be continued…