I watched as paul bearers wound you six feet under ground and sprinkled dirt on your pine box?

Where are you going, was it by choice or by chance or did time just run out on your life’s clock?

Will you still be around when I don’t hear your sound, are you lost or have you been found, has God made you apart of his flock?

Have you found the answers to life’s big questions, was the purpose of life to learn certain lessons or did you get to the end of life’s road and stop?

I may be selfish for wanting you here, I may be wrong for wanting you near, but who will I depend on to be my rock?

I know that death is inevitable, I know that I am completely incapable, but if I could change one thing I would save you when death knocked.