My parent’s firm grip is solid steel,
Holding my hand with protection.
Providing direction across deadly traffic,
Shielding me from this dangerous world.
Growth is an inevitable tract of living,
Beginning a new phase by independence.
Crossing the street alone is a rough quest,
Zigzagging through the hardships in life.
Maturity is an occurrence that must exist,
Searching for the route to secure liberty.
