GUIDING STARS
Parents, wind beneath thy wings,
Blessed to have the best, every child feels.
Yet mine truly are a rarity, as fortune reveals,
Embracing my quirky decisions as I traverse the vast nation.
For every yearning, one might look at the skies;
I gaze at my parents, where true optimism lies.
Their only words —“Go ahead, we’ll support”—
Not mere rhetoric, but a real commitment of sorts.
In storms of uncertainty, they serve my rock,
Shield against the swords, armor against the shock,
Sensing my deepest desire, so distinct,
A natal cord relationship, a tie extinct.
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