I had two children.

The Girl fought in a ring, 

The Boy sailed the sea.

She loved to hear him sing,

He hoped she'd leave him be. 

A storm struck his ship, 

while the waves shook it to a tip.

There was no trace of that boy, 

his absence raking all joy.

My Girl could not accept this, 

And made to rescue her sibling.

She left home with a kiss,

and my heart sobbing. 

Four years.

Not one word from my fighter, 

last seen far off.

Not a whisper of my Sailor,

his public fate, writ off.

The fifth year breaks,

as I sit at my porch.

The heat does scorch, 

and my tears begin to reek.

Then I see.

I see in the distance,

Two youths in glee,

and meeting the heat with grand resistance.

They are my girl and boy,

both happy and spry.

Their faces stained with tearful joy,

they rush to stop my fall, their best try.

My hopes confirmed, 

and all prayers made real,

my heart is seized,

broken with unnatural zeal.

I feel the dirt on my face,

as my children sprint.

I barely hear their pace,

though I can't spot them, even at a squint.

So that my final grace,

remains Distant.