September 27, 2010
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A weak hand slowly grips mine
So cold, so feeble, but so full of love
We share a bond like no other, her blood is mine
and angels call her name from above

May flowers once sprang on her face
Also there were some stormy days
but each morning she could erase
all the overwhelming pain with gods grace

Tender and of the oldest kind
suddenly I am not blind
from all that she hath done here
and all that she means to me, my dear

Dropping the curtain on such a strong life
that cuts through the veil of all misery
She wishes only the best and of this never deprived
Never will she know how much she means to me

Once given the seedling of a daughter
then after another generation of hope
Only did the deathly disease of depression caught her
and aimed to fire down its narrow scope

you would think that at this point in time
she would have broken down losing her own flesh
Why would god commit such a crime?
But further with his soul she'll mesh

Her grandson then bore a son
and to her he was the sweetest one
He though did not fully understand
that he was a token after all lifes great demands

Never did he grasp such love she gave
until one day he was saying goodbye
she grasped his hand and gave him a dry, sickly kiss
that he would weep so freely on her grave
and these tears of appreciation and love would never run dry

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