Tate Morgan > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

'Cross waves of wheat, her face I'd greet that white skin of milk and dew A voice so sweet, echo's the street green eyes cased in honey hue

They don't know anymore than you how to ease your life's pain Nor do they know why the winds blow or how to make the skies rain

Now most would say that I was wrong advising him this way Politically incorrect to ask he stand and pay

Behind those eyes then rose a tear the first blood I had ever drew From the depths of his tiny soul where innocence bid me adieu

With them go my joys and sorrows this life spent chasing dreams The grandiose philosophy built of my lofty hopes and schemes

I sent him the book to peruse in the hopes that it would cheer him To ease the blues and heal his bruise though the diagnosis was grim

To have a warm and a faithful friend who cheers in an adverse hour Is the gift you never wish offend to inherit life's great dower

My son thought it an adventure learning how to build on real scale Who could say they don't love the day when their sons light shone in detail

So with a pocket full of dreams I traced the river as it flowed More like a stray finding his way I departed the winding road

Why is it we all tolerate what in real life we would not take The art of being someone’s friend just to use them for our own sake