I miss you.

Oh how the light does shine at day

And falls when night has come to stay

And lets the moon caress your face

With shimmery hands and solemn grace

Oh how the sun defines your mood,

When he is gone, you act quite rude.

But when the moon returns to you,

You rest.

And the little steady breathing of

The child that you are,

Will surely fall in years to come

With every falling star.

And your chest will seem quite heavy,

And your breaths will come out slow.

For your muscles are now letting

Your weary breathing go.

And as the moon holds your face

And smooth’s your wrinkles crease,

And kisses your dimples with such grace

You slip off into peace

And on the morrow when there is,

The laying of the casket.

Your soul will not be in therein;

Twill be in Heavens basket.

And when the rain alas does stop

And the light allowed to shine,

He’ll cry for the moons loss

And I will cry for mine.

I miss you.