The Prodigal Son (A Sonnet) Poem by Barry Blander

Far, the son went to another nation
Spent his father's money on harlots, drink;
Consumed by sin: low, sordid and ancient.
Money spent, into poverty he'd sink
Eating husks of corn meant for hungry swine,
Thought of servants on his father's estate
Eating well, drinking of the choicest wine
Surely hunger, shame could not be his fate.
Now awake, he'd humbly apologize
Returned home; his father ran, embraced him.
'Forgive me, for I have sinned in your eyes.'
His father hugged him close from limb to limb,
Killed the fatted calf, much to go around,
'This, my loved son, was lost, but is now found.'