‘Is it time to go sir?’
‘It is son.’ ‘But who will miss me sir?’ ‘You will be missed dearly son.’ ‘My mother sir, will she miss me?’ ‘Yes, she will son.’ ‘My father sir, will he miss me?’ ‘Yes, he will son.’ ‘My darling Irene, my little Rosie, will she ever know me?’ ‘She will, son. She will see you in the rising and the setting of the sun. She will see you in the rain and through the tears of those who love and have loved you. Hear that bugle son? That’s for you, every year you will be missed but loved forever.’ ‘But I’m afraid sir.’ ‘Come now lad, it’s time to go, no need for fear. Take my hand, let’s walk together through this sea of red and onward, don’t look back now, onward lad, onward’. Paul J. Smitham. 2021 Comments are closed.
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