Your Poetry Dot Com - DAVOU'S INHERITANCE

His father was wealthy and very rich

So rich that even kings bowed when they greet.

No material thing seemed beyond his reach.

His palms and soles were as soft as a bread baked freshly

And his cloths, made from the most expensive fabric.

Davou was the only son and sole heir,

But everything he saw, he stole and sold

In spite all advises and what he was told

He had to be 'cool' thus he needed the drugs and the beer.

Not to mention, the fancy and in vogue wears

He went on in his wayward ways

All efforts to re-orientate him had failed.

He was a storm no boat could sail.

Out of desperation on this fateful day,

He was made to forge his father's hand on a document for a meagre pay.

Thence the father read and on the morrow he was found, dead on his bed he lay.

Davou had mourned, but not his father's dead,

Rather, for his long wait till his father's will is read.

That day finally came, with it his waits end.

The day dawned with a glorious sun making his anxiety great,

But he grew as cold as ice to find all he inherited was debt.

The document he signed had been a sale consent

His ways has driven his father to an early grave,

He himself trapped in the trap he had laced

And now his past and present stares him right in the face.

He has bitten all fingers thus non to run to for solace

As it were, he stands at a marshy place,

Where among many devils, he is face with the likelihood to starve

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