That frosty, ominous wind from North

makes parents hold their children forth

and drop them into the free-falling air

helpless, desperate, lonely, bare

Green with innocene, not yet ripe

reaching to God, the sun they swipe

Age changes all, children grow old 

and soon, the tales of life unfold

A bearer themselves, the old carry on

brittle, dry, soon to be gone

Now a sage, gold shines through

A soul to Heaven, to God be true

That frosty, ominous wind from North

makes parents hold their children forth

and drop them into the free-falling air

hopeless, desperate, lonely, bare