My O My - Poem by warner treuter
We say, We miss our loved ones when they die,
But then, We'll meet again beyond the sky.
Will we know them? Will the old be old?
And of the infants, could your own be told?
Would you keep your old aunt old forever?
And your lost baby young to grow up never?
All our ideas of God and Heaven on high........
So silly and irrational, O My!
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