The wonder years how they do flee,
As too the dreams once held so dear.
The child that sat upon my knee,
Now claims his right, his course to steer.
I tell myself as parents will,
I need more time to teach him well.
But the tide of time I cannot still
And his zest of life I must not quell.
A well worn, safe and lighted path
I would he travel, to never veer.
But this boy turned man in righteous wrath,
Would challenge wrong both far and near.
So when I question mode of dress,
And ask where do his values lie,
I must to self a question stress
Who am I, Who am I?