I have seen the seasons come and go
For many a year now.
I watch and love the young as they come and grow.
The flowers in the spring and summer.

I see the young grow and learn to drive.
Then I see on the news the deaths of them.
Now the car was not at fault.
It has no way to reason.

Listen to the young ones burying the young.
My heart grieves for the families,
I know how it feels.
To bury your child, seasons are not right.

Parents bury parents, not their children.
So many tears and flowers.
Nothing helps.
Prayers beg for future family times.

By Barbara (Brierhillbarbara@aol.com)


Waters' Journey

The Old Wraparound

A Touch Of Her Hand

Farm Stand ( 11 Authors )

Resort By The Sea ( 5 Authors )

The Unwrinkled Heart ( 6 Authors )

Victorian Ghost

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