A precious souvenir,
I shall treasure for many a year,
Is the remains of a beautiful rose.
I have placed it in a book,
So I can take a look,
When the need to reminisce grows!

Like the deceased friend whom I knew,
This rose also lived and grew,
Spreading its fragrance all around!
Ah, but now its beauty is gone away,
And beneath the cold, cold clay,
His remains await Gabriel's trumpet sound!

My life has an empty space,
For I long to see his face.
Oh, there's a hurt time can only attempt to mend.
Eventually the memory of my friend may dim,
But each time I think of him,
I thank God for such a precious friend!

Ah, I can hardly wait,
To enter Heaven's gate,
And see the Saints all dressed in white array!
Thank God, death is not the end!
Soon I shall see my friend,
In that Land of Never Ending Day!

Robert F. Dotson © 2008
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