While they’re here, I build my own hoard, my own child.
Saw his little fingers trusting mine a while,
Then the pain came back like a drumming rain.
I knew what I had taken from the ones who gave.
I was still their child, even grown and tall.
Still needed their voices when my heart would fall.
I kept acting fearless, kept my tears unseen,
But I wanted mother sitting close to me.
Do not wait for Valhalla. Do not wait for signs.
You cannot return all the wasted time.
Tell your mother thank you. Tell your father true.
Every love they gave you still lives inside you.
If they gave you wisdom, if they gave you care,
If they stood behind you when no one else was there—
Do not call it simple. Do not call it all that.
Such love is sheltered stronger than gold.