Mike Settle
When I was a little boy, my mother said to me, "Watch the new born roses grow It's a pretty sight to see
You, my son, shall blossom as the flower below I will be your raindrops You will be my rose
Listen while I tell you of the beauty in the sky There's a home for angels on the clouds so high
I must be an angel In heaven I shall stay If you ever need me, I'll hear each word you say"
Now her raindrops fall no more Who will take her place? Will I live to blossom full or wither into space?
Many times I wonder on the clouds above is it my dear mother who showers me with love?
When I was a little boy