God saw the road was getting rough, The hill was hard to climb.
He gently closed those loving eyes and whispered.
"PEACE BE THINE"
The weary hours, the days of pain, the sleepless nights are passed.
The ever patient worn out frame
Has found sweet peace at last.
The angels are softly garding a quiet and silent grave.
For in it lies a precious one
They loved, but could not save
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Herbalite
MY MOM
Poem By
Vonda Brown
The Great Outdoors
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