Roses are for the living not the dead,
One of the last sentences she had said,
My great Aunt Carol aka my mom-mom,
Went to the doctors with her heart beating like a drum,
She and her doctor had a long discourse,
Choking back her tears with much force,
The family gathered around her in fear,
Her ocean blue eyes began to tear,
I have cancer throughout my body,
These words almost killed her daughter Dotty,
She then claimed she may only have a few weeks left,
All I ask why is God attempting this theft,
Over the next few weeks,
She became horribly weak,
Her blond curly hair,
Lost all of it’s flair,
It fell out slowly,
Leaving her hang her head down lowly,
She laid upon what seemed to be her death bed,
Made my feet heavy with the feeling of lead,
Seeing her waste away,
Making me remember the days when we use to play,
All the amazing memories,
Will soon become a repeating remedy,

Roses are for the living not the dead,
One of the last things that she ever said,
Pink roses were one of her favorite flowers,
My heart felt like the collapsing Twin Towers,
The sorrow became to much to handle,
If only someone could change life’s channel,
I didn't want to say goodbye,
Nor did I want my loved one to die,
Upon her cheek I placed one last kiss,
Her presence will truly be missed,
Cancer consumed her soul,
Ate her up like a very angrily hungry troll,
Another person was taken,
God surely had mistaken,
Funeral day was dreadfully here,
Completely impossible to hide a single tear,
The ceremony seemed never ending,
As if it were purposely extending,
At her grave site,
It took all of my might,
Holding her favorite flower,
I remember it began to rain shower,
I placed it upon her closed casket and said,
Roses are for the living not the dead.