He must have tried
Everything else he knew.
Perhaps he felt,
“What more can I do?”
He had talked, growled,
Yelled, and praised,
But there was one,
Who couldn’t be fazed.
That one was stubborn,
Not foolish or mean.
He knew about life,
After all, he was eighteen.
The nights became long,
The days longer still.
He felt this man
Try to break his will.
He didn’t know
The man really cared.
For how the youth grew,
And how he fared.
Then in a room,
Closed to just two,
He said something,
I never thought he knew.
He knew my mother’s name,
And he said it with ease.
He said it with honor,
Not just to please.
He had written,
Even called twice.
No one thought
He was that nice.
He gave everything,
Held nothing back.
Saw there would be
Nothing to lack.
That time’s long over now.
It was much more than a game.
He’s always one to remember.
He knew my mother’s name.

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