7.Little Boy
When I was a little boy, my mother said to me, 'Watch the new
born roses grow. It's a pretty sight to see.
You, my son, shall blossom as the flower below. I will be your
raindrops. You will be my rose.
Listen while I tell you of the beauty in the sky. There's a home
for angels on the clouds so high.
I must be an angel. In heaven I shall stay. If you ever need me,
I'll hear each word you say.'
Now her raindrops fall no more. Who will take her place？ Will I
live to blossom full or wither into space？
Many times I wonder on the clouds above is it my dear mother who
showers me with love？
When I was a little boy.
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