His mother loved green emeralds, they reminded her of the sea
Though she only had but the one stone set in silver on a chain
Around her neck that seemed to bind her to her husband...
His father loved pewter, actually beating the metal from nuggets
Into usable plates, bowls and simple mugs - he was competent enough
To support his family, a craftsman without an artistic flair
They didn’t seem to require much, that pair - from what his eye
Could see, they loved to squander their earnings to accommodate him,
Their only adopted son - if used clothes, straw bed, and candy bits were enough
In the little shop on the lane, rooms above for living
With its’ back door leading to the rickety steps, down to the alley
Where at night the homeless often picked through their trash
Was he really all that selfish to not want that intractable life
He wanted to follow the migrating flocks...and be free of this time forgotten fife
Perhaps tomorrow he would find the courage to tell them he was leaving
On the next merchant ship to dock, they wouldn’t miss him would they?
If he could find them a replacement boy...like the one he’d spied stealing bread
Surely he’d want a warm bed and a chance to be molded
Into another replica of the working stiff, who rose at dawn
And fell into a dead man’s sleep after a hard day’s labor
After downing simple stew that seemed to drain hope of anything different...
Process notes: Perhaps this came from my own feelings about my current job? Waiting for that other door of opportunity to open wide and call my name :)
lane, alley, sea, eye, squander, accommodate, flocks, green, follow, pewter, beating, intractable Wordle #54 For the Sunday Whirl
Though written a different word list this could be the second in this series