In fine quill, I take to script tales anew,
Of coin and commerce, Business & Finance brew,
Their doings 'cross this boundless realm doth span,
And gently blend into the balmy winds that fan
When Fathers' Day arrives with sombre shade,
For Dads estranged, the pain cuts like a blade,
In hearts of love, held hostage by life's strife,
They yearn to mend the bond 'tween child and life
O, glimpse the silver mirror of our days,
And meet the countenance who greets thy gaze,
A future self we oft forsake or bay,
With shortsight, impel our fates to farthest sway
