Our father that's in heaven
who bless a daughter and placed her in our presents to teacher her in the way that she should go so when she grows up she wouldn't for get the word that was told
I realize you are the potter and we are the clay, and what ever was said and said and done you have the last say.........
Remember the face remember the fun times we shared and tears that was shared on one another on one anthers shoulders. Now you specking what ever on your mind but I relized that was you, and that was quite find. You were keeping it real, talking about how you feel, peeling away so much you wanted to say but I didn't. And I realize now that time doesn't Waite for now body. You see allow me to hear it when I'm breathing because when my eyes are close for good you will realize so much you wanted to say but tears start to fall down from your eyes on your face and it will show that it's to late and time doesn't Waite for nobody allow me to smell my ROSE while I'm here for tomorrow no one knows it just might be to late.....rip to cuz Sharon Law.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem