Lips wet with dew kissed my sad face
Knowing eyes covered in black lace
A soul departs without a trace
Returns to grace, returns to grace
I hold her hand as we both pray
Beneath a tree as it's bows sway
If not for death a perfect day
He went away, he went away
I question yet no answers come
All turn to dust when life is done
I'm so lost here with everyone
I want to run, I want to run
Third poem I wrote I was a little unclear on the rules,
I hope I got it right with this one.
One of my close friends Died at 18 in a motorcycle accident.
I dedicate this one to Hosea Cardos.