He had shining dark eyes and an oboe voice and mink-soft hair and could seem, even to Gary, more sentient animal than little boy.

He went out of the door, and she watched him through the little window, walking slowly to the door of the church. Then she sat down at his table, and put her head on it, and was silent, with the patient suffering of black women, with the suffering of oxen, with the suffering of any that are mute.

You can be a mama's boy, be a daddy's boy, but you can't be both. So you cling to the one you think you might lose.

Holding hands 
Standing byside
Staying 
All these matters for someone 
Who is out of hope

Written By Shiny kiruba

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