To the Elder's love, God gives children
That they may grow to fit His mold.
So that later, at the end,
They're refined as precious gold.
And oft times the Elder's love
Becomes the Elder's touch,
Since, to shape the Younger's heart,
Brings need for Wisdom's nudge.
The Touch of yes, the touch of no,
The touch that knows just when,
The touch that allows young freedom
Even while it hedges in.
But soon enough this help must fade,
For the Younger must evolve,
And learn to make his steps alone,
And find his own resolve.
But though a parent goes ahead,
Yet, remains the unseen crutch,
For, in the child, reflected still,
Is the Elders loving touch.