He walks the walk that many have walked His feet unsteady on the ground. A hand, it holds him, that he may not fall. The hand, it's steady, leading him on.
One day he'll walk that walk many have walked His feet unsteady no more The hand that held him, it'll pat his back Hoping he'll turn back and not frown
I wrote this after I was inspired by a mother I saw at Al Qasba, Sharjah