She counts the days of her son
As he grows older and older.
I count the days unill I die,
So i guess I'm growing colder.
Love is like a faerie tale
That is just myth and fantasy.
You can never really feel it,
Untill he's gone with thee.
Through thick and thin,
We both try to go on.
Me, with my life
And her, with her son.
©clohi420
C