When a soul is troubled in life's dark pit,
Not knowing where to go, nor where to sit.
When demons of fear and shadows of sin,
Let you find your peace only in your parents' skin.

You can do so much for others -- yet they never care,
They seek their gain, their interest's snare.
You can call someone "brother," trust them as a friend,
But turn your back once -- and that trust may end.

And when disappointment breaks the faith you keep,
You'll recall one line your mother used to speak:
"Be careful, my child." -- her voice will ring,
Her words, a truth that time will bring.

You could give someone the world, and still they wouldn't see,
But to your parents' eyes -- the world is you, simply.

I want to say something, though I'm sure you know,
No matter how grown you are, to them you're their little one so.
And today, though you've grown and stumble on stone,
They're still the first to catch you -- you're never alone.

Be careful with your words, don't wrong the good and pure,
For a careless tongue can burn -- like fire through a flue.
Ask yourself, at least once, maybe two,
Do our parents need much? They're happy with so few.

They need no gifts, no things to adore,
Their hearts are filled just by hearing, "How are you, more?"
Know their worth now -- while you still may,
For tomorrow you might love them -- but they'll be far away.