Young in age but aged so young
Denied no hymnal yet to be sung
Against Her good nature, no heed to Her grace
Death stole a lamb with no wool to replace.
Placed in the Valley, taken tomorrow
A gifted shadow of endless sorrow.
Resorting to silence, melancholy state
Always too little, too little.. too late.
They’ll meet me where the sidewalk ends
Where the earth and concrete starts to blends.
In the land of infinite time and space
And once more I will see their smiling faces.
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