As I sit beside my tranquil pond,
And gaze into its pristine depths,
I can only marvel at its crystal sheen,
And strive to keep its waters clean.
But as time goes on the seasons change,
Away with stealth the waters steep,
Replaced by those the rains would weep,
The winds will rage and the pond shall broil,
And make futile all this watcher's toil,
But still I watch and try to keep,
Pure my pristine pond so deep.
Until finally the winter comes,
This watcher's working hands grow numb,
And the pond freezes locking out,
This watcher's good intents devout.
All I can ask is, who's to blame?
The winter winds for cooling the water,
Or the pond for freezing?
A child's mind will do as such,
Will learn to walk and then discard its crutch,
Will rage and broil and be changed,
And learn to run, then leave behind
The parent who can take to mind
The question:
Who's to blame?
The world for taking my child away,
Or my child for leaving when the world called?
