FRANCIS
Amarantha Françoise Dyuaaxchs
Spotted with shines of a brown not of earth.
Though flourishing brightly, out went your light,
Leaving memory and a plot of land as your worth.
Your father was William Shakespeare Harlequin.
Amy, grey and white gave you birth.
You were prized, and there was such regret when
The gods ordained that you should leave my hearth.
You traveled in circles of iron. You suffered
Twice of a broken back. In a plastic cage,
Where you always struggled, you recovered.
But left again when passing the oldest age.
You left me a legacy, but I have it no more.
I try in all things to settle the sore.
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