Have you ever heard of the boy who was lost,
His Identity remains no more than a cross,
And was his father too quick to dismiss,
A mother’s son would always be missed.

And did the father regret his mistakes,
He’d take them back whatever it takes,
If he said sorry they would not hear,
For they were no longer anywhere near.

And was the funeral more than a cold, stormy day,
There are times they wish they could replay,
Time would never lessen the sorrow,
For some there would be no tomorrow.

As poppy fields grew, Rain would fall,
Life was ruined for them all.