The drive, to rescue, a soul.

Many years ago, it was, the drive.

Planned not was it.

Who would have planned, this drive.

He luv'd the boy.

Had since their youth.

He was the son, he might never have.

How does one walk, into a court room.

To send one, where, the boy is now.

This then, the van, was purchased.

Then loaded, was it, not, now ...

Then off, to rescue, the boy.

Others, were, their not, in the van too.

The parents who raised him, as their own.

I would not, after, this drive be permitted, to visit, him.

Then in the van, I would sit,my wife and I, waiting ...

Hoping, the boy, would feel our luv, through the razor wire.

This crime was horrible, but he was not the crime.

To separate the boy, from the crime, this was his goal.

Years later, the crime, is not remembered.

Forgiveness and healing have come, to them, all.