Written January 2005
Woe is those who suffer,
From affliction of freshly turned earth,
Under winters dismal shafts,
Those who lament on larconic being.
Faith to those who agonize,
Over loved ones last breath,
Angelic beams surround him,
Ushering him above to rest.
Distress is theirs but do not dread,
He is waiting to welcome you there,
And meanwhile lingering calmly overhead,
With pride and love and care.
kiss the mist 