Home was once a stunning smirk on his lovely face,

But that was before, and there I cannot go back,

In memories alone is that once sacred place,

Tainted by betrayal, an intended attack.

My house holds the child of his dreaded pet warlock-

It is my child too, I try to remind myself,

It- no, he- asks his name, and I try not to balk.

I forgot a name... 'Tempest' is to be his self.

A name like mine, so I cannot ever forget,

(So I remember the one prior, now long gone)

I, Gale, has a son, Tempest, who I have beget.

He has their eyes, to which my attention are drawn...

I look away from those eyes, not gray but pale blue,

Tell myself I will do better in the future,

But I have said that before, to tell it as true.

Once, I against betrayal made rage my suture...

Yet the wound did not stitch, it never ceased to bleed.

And as I pause, thinking on notion of home now,

I wonder if it hurt him to do such a deed...

If it hurt him, not just me, to so disavow.

Because his smirks are still home, one that'll never be...

I wish, sudden, that I could return, end this all.

My eyes do not see any possibility

Of hope, to once more see that stunning smirk enthrall.

And I still bleed, my wound is not at all mended,

So how can I think pained, hopeful thoughts like these ones?

I don't even know if our war can be ended.

I have heard, I dismissed, that we do both have sons...

Or at least, children. The gender was much unclear.

Maybe he has long moved on from me to a love,

Another he is more willing to with child, rear.

Perhaps he belongs below, but do I above?