Scattered to the four winds,
we were forewarned but forgot,
and we thought we’d forgo
listening for once.
We couldn’t stay in the foreground,
for forces unforeseen,
we were forced to forfeit
all the plans we were forming.
Fortunately we were fortunate,
though the foreigners forbade us beforehand,
we formed the fortunes we foretold,
and they forgave us formally.
We forestalled the forecast,
But we couldn’t foresee the forest ending
And we were afforded no mercy.
First and foremost our foresight was clouded,
and for all we’d forsworn
we foresaw nothing,
and we forgot on whose forbearance
we got to form these foraged words.
A forcefully foreboding wind,
foreknown to all but us,
gave us but a foretaste
of the forged form of former trust.
For the fortress fell, formless,
and the forlorn forthwith died,
so we forwent further fortnights,
spent forwarding our lies,
and for just the one forenoon
we were forgiven all our crimes.