The little ones cries through his pain
His mother knows, he may not be well again
Yet she smiles, and hides her tears
Cheering him on, fighting her own fears
Why question today, when each moment is blessed
Some things are best … left unsaid
The young one fights, moves far away
Toiling, striving incessantly, to find her way
At her old door, turbulence fraught
Welcomed back, no explanation sought
Silence speaks volumes, love does the rest
Some things are best... left unsaid
Misdirected angst in the midst of turbulence
Countered by calm, truthful in essence
And though he has much to say
There just isn't a correct way
On the off-chance of being misread
Some things are best… left unsaid
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