My work on my world

and where it all grows, the great and mediocre not me a one of them, to be a humble hoper

My son..................

thekabaka | 03 March, 2006 00:25

Those tear drops she shed and pain she bore
To bring me forth into this earth
And sadness endured so I could joy some more
For never was love her love in dearth

Even as my little self would tread and fall
That guiding hand kept pushing me on
Run she said till yours is all
Oh those days now away and gone

And stern she was when instruction gave
As morals to me she wisely taught
Be polite she said do no wrong, behave
Words I seek yet hear not

Days swept by from boy to younger man
The mellows voice of kindness always beside
And in victory or failure an assurance that I can
There was my mother with my every stride

Never once expecting, never a complaint
Epitome of a parent she was to be
Her patience so never with taint
My mother I yearn to see

A father now in self, son you I, hold
In love and care that you shall live
And to you words my mother once told
My son, to you my life I give


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