a gentle mist flows over
the parched and weary land
heartfelt admiration
for the lonely mother's hand
standing in the background
while her child learns to grow
seeing children follow
that she wishes they'd never know
for this world is full of hate
and their hearts always need
to go where the wind takes them
where experience tends to lead
they quiet their hearts
as their children run away
for they wish they could reach them
it's by force only that they stay
for children are children
long past their youth
they stop being children though
when they start seeking the truth