Creation Childhood Poems

These Creation Childhood poems are examples of Creation poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Creation Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |
"It was a mistake", she said. 
A tiny life swiped in seconds as 
gods creation is rendered a 
mere cluster of cells. 
Returned back to heaven 
hoping the return policy 
wouldn't deny. 
It was a mistake; a stifled cry

A lifetime of progress, 
innovation, and memories down 
the drain.
The notorious "what if" 
squashed with plan b; no hopes 
of a future. 
A stifled cry 

She could have cured cancer or 
delivered world peace. 
She could've fed the hungry 
and housed the poor. 
She could've been a Honors 
Harvard medical school 
graduate and your pride and 
joy.
None are the magical christmas 
mornings, first days of school, 
or birthdays. 
Terminated are the memorable 
first steps and momentous  
coos calling for "mamma". 
No more possibilities. Now a 
stifled cry. 

"It was a mistake", she said. 
A moment of carelessness and 
selfishness translates into a life 
lost. 
Permanent. 
Sent back into the arms of god. 
An easy way out. A stifled cry.

Copyright © Lexi Break | Year Posted 2014




Details | Ballad |
As the sunsets at the end of the day,
And the night begins to fall,
So, does all the dreams of all the little children,
In their own wonderlands of their own,
Wishing and thinking of great things to come,
Hoping their parents will make these dreams come alive,
Cause dreams to children should become bright and gleam,
And all to them more than just alive,
All children want is hopes and dreams to become true,
But if you can teach them how to work hard at them,
They too can make their dreams become their own reality,
For any one person works hard enough,
At what they want in life,
They can have any one thing they want,
All they have to do is work really hard to make it real,
For believers can believe in themselves,
And strive to work toward making their own goals,
Their very own come true,
Which gives more satisfaction in life,
Than things being handed to you,
So always strive for the best,
And all your wishes and dreams can come true,
In your life if you want them too.

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
I do so love harvest thanksgiving, 
That time of year which celebrates agriculture, 
When church flips from being god-centred, 
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.  

It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion, 
‘Cos tins are given no problem; 
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better, 
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior. 

As a child who regretfully attended church, 
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank, 
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living. 

No food bank is respectable, of course, 
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day, 
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely. 

God is sometimes just such an abstraction, 
Academically, he’s for the objective mind; 
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind. 

When you just need a meal on the table, 
And need it supplied by someone else, 
Whether by government, food bank or church, 
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse. 

I thought it was moral to impose that on believers, 
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot, 
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods, 
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.  

Being grateful for food, diet and health, 
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible, 
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force. 

Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance, 
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job; 
It’s that occupation and training which ensures, 
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.

The harvest basket every year means to me hope, 
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average, 
That this real examination is something to advocate. 


Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015




Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Imagism |
Within the imagination lives a breath of fresh air.
A city full of people sharing and caring.
A man with a limp walks with his cane telling his community about all good things.
A child laughs in the park as her dog runs to catch a ball.
The wind is high and kites are let loose in the sky.
               What a pleasure to see joy in so many eyes.

Within another realm is a normal world where people raise families without 
     blemishes or scares.
This is where heterosexuals experience life and hold fast to their wedding vows.
They work for a meaningful existence and strive to do what is right.
               This is a world of pitfalls and perils afire.

Within the world and of God are the people of the universe.
Profound in faith and religion, they thrive on Mother Earth.
Knowing that two wrongs do not make right, they praise God and others are 
     atheist.
	       This is a universe perilous.	

(WE ARE OUR OWN CREATION.)
_________________________________________________ _______| Penned on January 08, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |
The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought  laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".


Copyright © Meghan Palmer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
Story of Afghanistan

The barren land of my birthplace
Green at times but screening a rocky face
Known for thousands of years for its warrior race
Let me tell you the truth,
No one really wanted this “space”.

Up until two lions began prying around
Initially, just fooling around
Afterwards, casting off their cannon sound
Resembling the 6th night of an infant’s fête
Building their castles, and so began the burial grounds.

The lions pledged to crush the other
With a master plan
Dividing the blood brothers
Such was the instruction of the queen mother
As the clans clashed and killed one another.
The chiefs were swallowed by the promise of gold
The mullahs were swapped for the hollow soul
The seniors by the fire recounted and foretold
The purpose for the lion’s vehemence
This story definitely in time will unfold.
The old grew timeworn
Waiting for their young ones to return home
The teenagers free born
Screamed out of their mosques’ domes
Come and join us in this struggle
Faced with the crusaders of the Church of Rome,
But little did they know,
No one will return but the maimed men to a funeral home.

The sturdier lion won the combat
But what has become of my Afghanistan
The wolf in a sheep’s disguise
Has spoiled my jade paradise
My heart denies it but I may have bombed my youthful chums,
This is now a global land-dwelling for bums and slums!
The lion wishes to be unveiled this time
So he promises to take the last dime
After all it pays to cooperate in war crimes!
He roars in a deafening cry
I bring Democracy to this land
With loads of cash in one hand
A whip in the back hand--forgetting the long years of perfidy
I now declare and demand
This is the new Promised Land.
 A woman of this realm is exposed with a promise
She is liberated by democracy
Famous on national publications like the story of Pocahontas
She’s affirmed independent and agreed to arise out of the darkness
As the saga is read to the United States Congress
She exhales
And anticipates the lion’s hunger
Waiting for the day when she will be veiled, unveiled, and then veiled again
Not by ordinary men
But by inscription of law.
Thank you for sealing the decree!

Copyright © Roya Zereh | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Jungles like company,

 both parents want custody, 

 the elderly needs an accompany, 

 I am reluctantly, 

 withering away in the upcountry.

 Snow burns my throat,

 I use up a lot of time on my remote,

 I know I have someone to devote.

 All this conflict ,

 will predict,

 a passage way through the jungle,

 a nice person for you to stumble,

 across.

 Remember people practice daily loss

 of emotion or ambition;

 a burned out ignition;

 or a life-depending mission.

Copyright © Renee Muravez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
 childhood, creation, feelings, growing up, heaven, imagery, word play,

Awakening Teary-eyed Emotions  ©                        	

Collect upon the stillness
Count down the seconds
Clouds have overshadowed
Calling tears to flow
Channeling down overboard
Conforming eyelids like levies given way.


Cradled tongues wait at mouths door
Challenged upon and brought to bear
Casting seasons’ awakenings
Claiming the everlasting senses
Climaxes set to mind, tell us more?

Companionship spent and lost and made
Crammed and stored in the annals of yesteryear
Crumpled and ironed for second thoughts 'thrice'
Camped together with ‘no rhymes nor reasons’
Chained and then unlocked to the here and now.

Chapters of school’s hard knocks mount
Carries home memories of no mercies given
Cruelty handed out without ‘thought or rhyme’
Critically learnt when it was your turn in time
Compassion for the unjust is sorely brought!

Cry the babbling brook booked for ‘trials and tribulations’
Carried forth and slowly savored 'thrice' times more
Channels of tears in troughs carve canals downstream
Catch that tear on the tip of an out-stretched tongue
Collection feeds at mouth’s opened doors!

Coupled pages with splashed  tear-stains
Corners dog-eared against lost at sea
Crowning and cresting for one another’s birth
Creation is all but one tear withheld 
Crimped thoughts are cause for flood alert!

Cleansing from tear-streaked faces upturned
Catching like snowflakes upon tongues burned
Concrete hurts when taken to ground
Correlating harsh licks where feet do tread
Chapters are ticked to this noted fact!


Childhood skips but a beat
Children plying their ropes
Cranking out all their hopes
Counting each skipped rotations
Crossing fingers for one more turn!"
Chanting and skipping to “SKIP TO MY LOU”! 
Caroling so distinctly to skip/hop once again
Calling next one for rote to take their turn 
Counting out so intently for each jump made
Charmed verses so telepathically. 
 
“C” is for creation 
“C” is for calling 
“C” is for coming 
“C” is for collecting                                
“C” is for climaxing 
“C” is for cradling 
“C” is for care-giving 
“C” is for countdown
“C” is for challenges
“C” is for courage
“C” is for communicating
“C” is for crying
“C IS FOR CANCER
“C” is for curing of the body and soul
“C” is for chartered awakenings 
 “C” is for camphor fumes in the heavens glory
 “C” is for comfort always a “tear in disguise”! 

                                                    
 




Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
I Love the elderly so full of history I love my generation who kept me a mystery I love the children who's future, now bright for I have died for them to capture the light for i understand pain more than ever once I released it the anger got better as it went away from the people and into my music without a single reason to prove it without a reason to let Love's light in I didn't, it found me and lesser I sin God and my father both let me know it would all be okay so very long ago even tho the road would be full of pricks even back then I'd tell them you can all suck my dick. -Bj Fard

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.


Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
What can you remember from childhood?
The memory of friends still haunt.
Being lonely and an outcast, I created my own.
One in particular, not really a friend;
I found out too late.

First there were games and fun,
Secrets that no one would ever know.
Then those games turned into danger and unimaginable terror.
I told myself that he was mine and of me,
So there was no way he could hurt; I was wrong.

I made my escape, but others were not so lucky.
I found happiness and love again;
Expecting children of my own.
They will never know my pain, 
Nor feel the misery for themselves.

But…
He watches and waits.

Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |
Long ago,the guinea fowls congregated 
Clourfully and innumerably 
And sang sweet songs 
And played in the savanah
They sang for the for the antelopes 
To leap  and dance in the beautiful grass lands
 The farm boys listened and danced too
And their hearts were merry

At night around the fire the folk tales were interesting;
The wild dogs barked ;
The nightjars called peacefully;
The owls clamorous,booming hoot was heard 
The starry fireflies flashed in courtship elaborate dances

But the conflagrations came 
And swept across the grass lands and bushvelds
The axemen were merciless ;
And by their millions the trees were severed
The poachers were ruthless 
And the animals wild knew not more peace
The guinea fowls were poisoned 
The nature loving farm boys beheld 
All this chapter in heavy hearted silence
The guinea folws and other song birds 
Shall never sing again
And the times shall never be better again.

Copyright © RAYMOSE JOSI | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lanterne |
Play

Rarely 

Goes without

Consequences 

Laugh

Copyright © Llayn Mays | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
I remember trying to make a castle out of sand
Instead of sand,bricks, trying to master, the castle with my hands 
First the sandbox
Now land mass geographical spot 
Symmetrical blocks of a plan to plot 
Metrical exact measurements jot
In my dream as a child
Now I'm wiser an the dreams are vile 
I picture the vivid
Description of the image of the castle I made
To the visage of this dimension in reality to  facade
Easy as water to create a castle for a king
But harder to father this dream
So I play chess
 to cave in the steps
To protect the kings fortress 
The forces inside the king is resources 
His mind orbits as a metamorphic rewarding 
To changing his childhood into adulthood
No matter the faults an catapults I exalt the goods
To result to what could


Copyright © uriel wisdom | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Lighting Bug

_______________
____________



Glow little lighting 
bug,

let your bright light 
shine

as the air and the 
midnight hour

all but intertwine.



Flicker with the  
neon glow,

just like,when I 
was a child

watching from the 
shadows

of beauty free and 
wild.



You are but a 
treasure,

something so very 
rare

you sparkle like a 
little star

with the shine you 
share.



I remember 
sometimes 
catching you,

my hands lit up 
with glow

and then I'd watch 
you buzz away

as I would let you 
go.



All the fun and 
simple times,

can't believe 
they're in the past

but no matter how 
the time does 
change

your shine will 
always last.



7/3/14- Jessica 
Thompson

Copyright © Jessica Thompson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
The lips that kissed these tiled floors
now split to cough out damp clay dust.
Gathered in excited lungs, to build and mold forever more
under thatched roof of ripped canvas. Must

the strings that hold your heart in tune
be plucked free to dance upon the unknown noise.
That rings from peach sky mornings to hushed afternoon
in the sparrows song. Like the toys

that teach creation, Paintbrush’s whispering tongue
kisses white with every stroke. Scream
forth in colorful kindling that rung
your secrets in the wind, leaving dry lungs to dream

for knowledge as it seeps from tree rings,
the life sap frozen in amber wings.

Copyright © Morgan Sully | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
i see a boy, and you a serpent stone. i am you and you are i, together we gaze at one another, you see what i am, and not what i was, yet what i was i still am, and what you were before so still are you. we share the same nectar of our mother's and father's misfortune without realizing, i don't expect you to remember any of this because i had yet to exist, and still the sounds you express speak of intention that you may not ever retrieve, so be careful of what groups they form, be mindful of what will always belong to you, and know what you cannot destroy until you embrace you as your own -

Copyright © Jim Cross | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Surely to know the ambrosial quiver
Of stiffened fruit, ripe and swollen
With stolen fragrance and lovely flush
Of seeded solvent all down a furtive face
And up the greedy pink arms of cloud-ward reaching children

Is to know also the jealous rain
Her green glances gorge on mellow delight
Indulgent and impatient with quick eyes
Snatching strokes of waxy flesh
Torrid caress under an austere guise of gray
She is a lean and idle glutton
Who lashes in strife with quickness and lusty strikes

It will be a feast of soul
If you do not slay her first

Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Birds fly through my window
With colorful feathers and 
Silver, Gold musical notes
Mother says the songs 
Are meant to bring cheer
And ignite imagination.
The forest isn't scary
The monsters come out in the dark
But I have a heart that glows
Through the dark.
Mother says a heart of gold
Keeps the soul stronger 
Than the demons. 
I climb mountains that touch
The clouds and beyond
If I reach out I can gather
Tears from the clouds.
Mother says the clouds are 
Closer than they appear
And they rain tears that
Soak into the earth and create
Something sad into something
Full of life and sunshine.
Climbing heights make me
Taller and braver than warriors
I can see the world in another 
Perception beyond my sight
Mother says beauty is preserved 
In different perceptions. 
Everything is beautiful in its 
Own way. Flowers are filled 
With liquid sunshine. Hearts
Are filled with love.
Mother says everyone needs love. 
And I always have love. If I
Look hard enough…
I can see the hearts in everything.

Copyright © Paige Posadziejewski | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Burns Stuck in the throat Choking burns Searing from the inside out Always returning Always churning Swallowing fire Swords with no edge Licking with damage Blackening from the inside A cancerous trap Always made alive Built to take away the pain The flame of fame Burns Something caused this fiery reign A handsome, showy shield With no protection Just an empty mask reflection Leading to the grave Croaking like a frog Hurled in the midst of a sweltering bog Caught in a gulp Inhalation is a war— A war for more! Breathe out Keep swallowing Panic There shines the manic In all its glory Watch as it slowly Burns Words do nothing but feed the fire The fame grows evermore Opinions cry and never tire Gesturing for more Festering for more Burning for more Dying for more

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Chant Royal |
The Relentless 
I know, do not remind me, but today I saw my father
On TV, he is 110 and can dance salsa, so if I´m like him
I have years of gymnastic prowess  
I rang the TV channel asked for my dad´s address, they
didn’t tell me against policy....ok. 

I´m tenacious like the Wiesenthal centre pursuing war 
criminals to their grave and spitting on it, because their
ideology to the pursue of old crimes have no limitation
nor forgiveness, but my father wasn´t there, his voice 
was ensnaring  women

A, this centre of vengeance has a duty to follow the old
Nazis to the point of ridiculousness, the lowliest guard 
at a concentration camp will do an old face in the papers.
Alas the money well is drying out even evil Nazis have to 
die and get a Christian burial.

And one wonders if a new law is being made that gives
the right of the survivors to follow and righteously 
demand that the grandchildren of the wronged should
benefit too we remember the pain because a corny eye
 demands  ritual repentance.  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Through the years the boy became a man that had already seen the world in his travels.  He never married because of his conviction of accused infection of the people.  The rules in those day changed ruler to ruler.  He was allowed to marry in his life time but not untill after his leader had died, he was 67 at the time.  The boy that had traveled did write a scrolled article that contained his opionion and explaination of the metors and the water but it also detailed the logistics of the war that happened on the island and even pictures of the way the warriors had left the bodies, upside down with flames or hot embers at the deads necks with iron post staked through their hearts.  The gentleman had a therory of an island with a volcano that fed eagerly and hungerly at the rotten humans that had been staked to the ground for three to seven years. He therorized that the volcano infect with the bacteria had leched to the jungle floors and perched its self to the under sides of the world.  The decription that Notradomus gave was alot like the article that the boy had written only to be published in the most private of scholarly clubs.

Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
Together hand in hand
By the meadows where we stand

Captured by Gods amazing creations
But you stand the most beautiful of revelations

The birds and the bees 
The sky above tall trees

But mirrored in the still water
I see a humble reflection and nothing else after

Holding gentle hands leading to a rivers bed
On aromatic grass you've softly laid my head

Gazing into your shinny, hungry eyes
For your heart and body, my love silently cries

As you lay your head upon my breast
It's there you must now rest
Whilst I thank God, for I've been blessed

Copyright © DENISE NARAYADU | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Writing In The Dirt

A child I had a worrisome pain that hurt
so often that I simply wrote in the dirt
So great and often was this huge fight
a great need to just open up to write!


No need to buy paper or turn the page
we were so poor when I was at that age
Writing so soothed my body and mind
sent my spirit gifted treasures to find!


How well I remember pretending to be sick
staying home from school with that stick
Writing poems and exploring the wild woods
ignoring things that I never ever should!


So often late afternoon sitting in the shade
the poems and short stories I cleverly made
Left for the wind and rain to just wash away
joyfully began again the very next dry day! 


Harvest time my dad sure knew my little trick
moaning and groaning , pretending to be sick
Father came up with his compromising plan
weekends write , other days work like a man!


Summers when brothers and I were not fighting
my creative soul was under a tree writing
So great was that pleasure and purest joy
truly a great gift to such a very poor boy!


Sweet memories of wiling away the long hours
ran inside only by too many summer showers
Long gone are days of writing on the ground
internet, a computer keyboard happily found!

Robert. J. Lindley, 07-14-2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |
faces on faces.............there are soo many faces on faces.........creating a fake environment around you........

teliing fake truths to make a more perfect you..................

why just people remain their orignal oneself..............


to love the orignal you....................


TO LOVE THE ORIGINAL YOU..................

Copyright © Swarna Tilak | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
A young girl sits on a plank of wood that splintered
Attached are two ropes, one on either side
The swing reaches ten miles high to heaven
Or so she says
An old strong tree secures the apparatus on the limb
Which sees to it that she goes up and through the ridge
Where clouds form white and live
She comes down with speed but never ends
Her parachute dress sees to that
Wind catches it, her breath and that's not all
If she falls she falls forever
Below the narrow canyon walls where the desert ends
Life begins again
When she goes up she smiles over the vast turquoise sea
Some parts are filled with deep green turtles  
And with the golden sun on the horizon that smiles
They rise together from their depths
The smell of warm apricot pie fills her with delight 
If she ever comes down again
Red marbles wait for her in the yellow leather bag
Next to the blue shoes she forgot to wear outside
If she goes even higher now
A tornado might catch her in its mouth
Or is it eye?
Young girls don't remember such trivial things              
She can always Google it on the internet 
Or simply forget and keep on swinging

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Alliteration |
I wish that nothing ever changed
That is impossible
People changes
People leave
And sometimes you are left with no explanation at all
People make promises they never intended to keep
Like the guy in the Park telling the girl that they would be toghter forever
Or maybe they could have been if things were to stay the same
If noting ever changed
If feelings didn't change if the worls just stayed the same

I wish that noting ever changed
That would be kind of childish of me to ask for things I should be carefully wishing for
It takes a lot for a person to change 
I guess for the world its the same
Never sticking to something and something never sticks.


I think i should keep my wish for something that truly matters
Not that the world don't matter but in order for us to grow things has to change
In order for us to change things has to take place

Lost memory's making flashes between my eyes
Lost love a heavy burden hanging across my heart
Regrets I have that was probably never intended for me

We live in a cruel world with cruel peole and it makes it hard to see the good one's
It makes it hard to see the good that is in the world
And even harder to admit that change has to happen

Copyright © Weydene Winster | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |
My King has arrived 
Are hearts collided
I've waited 9 months for this moment
In my heart I will forever own it
True love my first son
I'll stand by your side till my days are done
Life can be hard but I'll have your back
Right or wrong I'll get you on track
There will be days we don't get along
Cuz are Torres blood is really strong
I thank God for the life he's gave you Son
For I would give mine so you could live life till it's done

Copyright © Angel Torres | Year Posted 2014