Home Fires

About young ones fleeing the nest

The little people in your life can make or break you plans

Will spin your world out of control and speed up life's pouring sands

So many broken toys and cups, too many ruined clothes

So many stains to scrub away, and the daily runny nose

And when our kids have fallen down, and grazed their leg again

We wrap a plaster on the wound and patiently do mend

When tiny scratch seems to them a gashing gushing wound

We bind it tight and wipe their tears, and sing a happy tune

On winter days when faces red peer in the window pane

We greet them at the chilly door, and snatch them from the rain

We sit them down and rub their hands and place them by the fire

And cover them with towel and wipe their boots of of mud and mire

When callous friend or hateful bully, has hurt their little heart

We hold them close and reasure, and remove the unkind dart

And on those dark and stormy nights, when ghosts seem in the wind

We sit and sing or story-tell, until their dreams begin

For you dear mums and dads alike, their needs are always first

And for many manic years, your own needs seem accursed

And there may be days when you are tired, and broken by the storm

When you may regret the tribulation, that came when they were born

But parents heed my warning, and act while they're still small

Don't take their joys for granted, their tears, their fears, their falls

For one day when they encounter life, and make the big mistakes

They may not let you guide them, and your wisdom may forsake

For they will love some villains, and they will hate your law

In a moment of youthful madness, misery crouches at their door

And you will not be the one that they will listen to

But celebrities and web decrees will be their new go-to

Then you will have to witness the breaking of their souls

The confusion and the anger, that comes with empty goals

No longer able to lead them, or swoop them from the floor

And shield them from their folly, and life's unfair encore

And you will wish for snowy boots and muddy prints on floors

The sound of broken crockery, the banging of the door

And you will yearn to kiss their knee, and wrap them in your arms

To soothe their cuts and bruises, and comfort their alarm

But through their trials and sorrows, be patient and still there

For you will still be needed, will have a chance to care

And when the world is done with them, and they begin to see

The things of most importance, and the things that set us free

You can gently soothe their scars, and wipe their weary feet

And put a plaster on their broken heart, and kiss their stinging cheek

And take their hand so frozen, by this world so cold and harsh

And warm them with your words of love, and the fire in your heart