His shoulders hang low by the weight on the bag,
His footsteps echoed loudly in sore resignation.
His eyes are deserted by the understanding
of no reasonable explanation but "must be".
He knows I must go, I must leave, I must work.
Doesn't get to wonder “why”, “what for” or "if" it is so.
Doesn't get to choose his path, his time or his crowd.
Doesn't get to complain, not anymore, he has grown.
How can I tell him to defy what lies ahead,
if I cannot defend my place in his early life?
Am I teaching to be strong or forcing to conform?
It is not money we require, we are fortunate there.
It is not a habit of ages, my grandmother wouldn't.
It just hurts every day to watch him strode this way.
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