No dried wood please!

Oh! After two long years
We were meeting each other
My son! Time killed all my senses
and am unable to retrieve them now in present tense

I know you are placed thousands of miles away from us
and your weekly phone calls are running fast to reach us in hush

Every time you call us you talk of money and money matters alone
Are we as humans can't converse with out money as agenda on our list

Undoubtedly money may make many things serving us to the top
When you are in the midst of a thick desert
Can money quench your thirst?
Money alone doesn't matter to me
the affection ringing out in hearts and souls
Mind me in many senses and caress my welfare in cools

Leave the money bags to your custody itself
Talk some thing different which gives us joy and delight
at this late hours of the setting time
Don’t take my advices as lessons teaching crime.

Be hold! Behave! Son! We are bonded  and blended with relation of  blood
Never belittle us  we are the parents and  please don’t  leave us to dried woods
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