That Fateful Morning That fateful
morning we said goodbye, I never dreamed that you would die. You are my
child, my son, my friend, I never thought our time would end. I would
have held you close to me, Had I but known what was to be. The anguish
of my broken heart, The knowledge that we must part. Seeing you lying
there, so quiet and still, I thought to exercise my will, And call
you back, to keep you near, It was not to be, that much was
clear. Your soul had flown to God above, Who holds you close in His
true love. Those of us left here below, Must turn you loose and let you
go. In Memory of James Bruce Dean Written by his father, James
G. Dean |
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