Wealthy Son Poem by Naveed Akram

I leap and creep, like a baking son,
Eating my bread from the one who stakes
His heart on the love of wine and weather.

My riches are always in the lake, in the river,
Where my words can marry with water and ice.
The rich have been alleviated of their fathers.

Mighty matches forsake my riches like a folder
Of papers and rich documents, always cunning
And clever to the mighty awesome feathers of birds.

Let me fly in a plane that streams ahead of the water,
The fluids have to be my precious heart,
The seas are still like the future of our lakes.

This is natural of the fine weather, that you stroll in
And fight a battle to the deeds of the lime and ocean,
Feeding a fighter to his freedom, so that wealth is amassed.