Sires To Scions Poem by Hannington Mumo

Where is that all-persuading allure that coupled our begetters,
Tearing asunder all mirages of counterfeit worth and its tethers?
I bet that very sure charm can likewise our ever-budding bonds suture
And stitch us hot heart to heart, and obtain us a bound blissful future.

And pray say - where is that holy warden of the yon sullen skies
Who steadies the younger and lowlier pilgrim as his sire fallen dies?
For this very heaven's ever-loyal guardian can our liable lives link
And bind us blind arm over arm, and forever as one feel and think.

Now having both bitterest of pills twice-ingested late,
Don't you think it the high time we deuce struck a date?
I presume you're really that little Lilly I loved ogling then
And dreamed us wrapped lip against lip, a boy of only ten.

And should our toddling love succumb to rude pillaging of time
Or maybe summarily martyr fall to those seismic vanities of dime;
Thus robbing us of that long-ordained idyllic bliss,
I would at least invite your simple farewell kiss
And thus live to forever bemoan my ill-flavored lot,
And perhaps again relapse and last a desperate sot.