A cold wet dreary day,
Father and son start to play.
A visitor comes to the door,
Tales of India, shamans and treasure galore
A talisman, a charm confessed
They ask to see it, brought out with detest.
A curse placed upon the charm
Warnings professed of previous harm.
Curse dropped in the fire.
Saved at once by burning desire.
Greed pulled out the burning flare.
Use with caution if you dare
What to wish for continually confounds
At last they wish for two-hundred pounds
Dreams fall of how it should be spent
Delivered by the son via body maimed torn and rent.
A mother weeping on the floor
“Wish for my son,” a knock on the door.
Father’s horror, he starts to run,
Praying for a wish undone
Knocking stops, a mothers wail
A grateful sigh, a wish to fail
Did he return? We will never know
The Question is do you think so?