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R. I. P.


When somebody dies, a cloud turns into an angel, and flies up to tell God to put another flower on a pillow. A bird gives the message back to the world, and sings a silent prayer that makes the rain cry. People dis- appear, but they never really go away. The spirits up there put the sun to bed, wake up grass, and spin the earth in dizzy circles. Sometimes you can see them dancing in a cloud during the day-time, when they're supposed to be sleeping. They paint the rain- bows and also the sunsets and make waves splash and tug at the tide. They toss shooting stars and listen to wishes. And when they sing wind- songs, they whisper to us, don't miss me too much. The view is nice and I'm doing just fine.
This is dedicated to my mother "Rita" who had passed away for Eternal Life on the 16th. June 98.
At the age of 58 years.

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R.I.P.

This bed dear father, Did you know that it would be, Your final bed of rest? Where you would spend, The last days of your life, Your eyes tightly closed, To hide you from the light. Did you hear us talking, Trying to bring you back? Did the constant breathing, Of the ventilator drive you mad? Did you rage against the dying of the light, When you looked so tired of life? we could have talked some more, I could have tried to listen, Now you proved your point Dad, And the pain is unforgiving.
This is dedicated to my father "Oreste" who had passed away for Eternal Life on the 23rd. May 2003.
At the age of 65 years.
Click Here to hear (THE WAY OF SUFFERING)

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Email: abelraym@maltanet.net