Those, three little words, from, a father, to son.
Take flight, like, the birds, in, the broad, midday sun.
Sprint, like, limbs, so absurd, after, starter pistol's gun.
Like, Achillean heels, undeterred, tragedy kills them, for fun.

Those, three little words, from, a father, to son.
Crushed, by, hooves darkly furred, the words, cower when shun.
Fade into obscurity, unheard, like, unjocular puns.
Are lost, and, never return, like,...