She is leaving home, for greater things,
She is leaving home, spreading her wings,
She has looked back; now, her eyes are on the map,
Her plan for the future, the vision she nurtures.
Her nerves are high, but a single regret,
Would bring her back to where it all started,
Across her mother's loving chest.
She knows, she says that she knows, that life isn't easy,
But from the bedroom window, life is empty,
Without progression, without contention,
Without an inner drive being fulfilled,
Like an untilled field left to disrepair,
Forever declining in potential and flair.
Fame and fortune must be earned, she heard,
From the heroes of the silver screen,
Mediocrity is simple, and glory is tough,
And life is rough for all,
Save those that are born blessed,
And, yet, still, in spite of all; she is leaving home,
Not because it is easy, but because it is hard,
She will play games of pains and pleasures;
That, she says she knows,
As a man with a long grey beard once told her,
To dine with God she must deal with the devil,
Must toil over the pitiful, and must eternally fix her apron of leather.
It is just so, that when she is aged and weak,
She will look back at every trough and peak,
And smile, and breathe one last breath,
And be happy that she did her best.
For a motivational article on Leaving Home, click here!