Parable of the Prodigal Son
A son said, “I am leaving home,
Dad let me have my share,
of all your wealth and your estate!”
There was no quarrel or debate.
He wandered far from home,
And squandered all he owned
And soon was all alone.
Just then a famine hit quite hard.
And he was in great need.
No more was he a ‘Mister Big’
He found employment feeding pigs,
and better fed were they.
With pods he gave away
He wished he had not strayed.
“What have I done?” the boy cried loud.
“I’ve sinned ‘gainst heaven and home,
My father’s servants way back home,
All have some food to call their own
I’m going back to base.
I’m going home to face,
My father, in disgrace."
“No longer fit to be your son,”
He chanted all the way
“Let me just be your hired hand,
I’ll work for you, I’ll plough the land!”
With loving arms outspread
His father to him fled,
Had thought his son was dead.
His brother who had worked so hard,
and never had reward,
Moaned that his brother was a fraud,
Said “Dad, you treat him like a lord!”
The father then replied,
“We must rejoice,” he sighed.
“I thought that he had died!”
© S Hamil Feb 24th 2014