Orange

In a clean, order place that was much, much too white

Sat a mother and her son, very full of terror and fright

Later that day, the mother traveled, and went to a field

She took her son as well, told him his father wouldn't yield

They sat there for a very long time, contemplating

The answer they had received after so much waiting

Eventually, the boy got up, picked a beautiful flower

But all his mother did was cry, and at it, glower

They drove back home, had dinner and went to sleep

Meanwhile, all the mother did was simply weep

They did this every day, the field, and then the flowers

And again, all the boy saw was his mother's glowers.

The boy, young, an age of four, didn't understand the emotional war.

And the last time he ever saw her smile was when they went to

The field, and after a long, long while, he got up and went over

He picked a flower, and what he said then made her cry

She realized she couldn't hide it anymore with lies, he knew

And what that boy said, that made her cry and smile,

Was that the flower he had picked, after a long, long while

Was Orange, "just like Daddy."