forget not the ones, who touched your life
who painted sunshine, or clouds of strife
and rainbows that shone, with love and care
a pair of hands, that would help and share
the little dreams, that were made come true
the twisting paths straightened, by a golden few
as a sculptured life, goes passing by
the shouldered teardrops of a cry
the saintly caress of hearts of true
the blessings of real love, are passed to you
as eyes of wisdom, open for you to see
place gently back on the world, what was given free
look not upon flowered grave with a teardrop in the eye
for an empty feeling deep inside, will always ask the reason why