There is a gold star in the window,
Where a blue one used to be;
Another soldier is throw with war,
Another soul is free.

Another mother walks alone,
Her only son is dead;
She looks with tear filled eyes upon the lonely years ahead.

But Mary walked a lonely road,
When Jesus went away;
He could of taken her along,
And yet, he made her stay.

He must of had a lot of good he wanted her to do;
Perhaps, that is the way it is with gold star mothers, too.