I suppose now would be too little too late.
It was Monday you passed, you made it through the whole week.
And if you could only know the compliments your bouquet has been given, the words sound the same
when they hit my ears and I'm sorry, my apologies.
Angie will miss you.
I suppose that's why she let go feeling
Oh so sentimental but never shallow. I can't bear to think about her much, because she loved you more than I knew love had the power too.
What is left of what that dinner table once was?
Vern has gone, you have gone. Willard abandoned the lot of you, and I'm just not sure I ever want to make it as long as you folks.
Take me out early, so my friends don't die before me.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
I suppose now would be too little too late.
It was Monday you passed, you made it through the whole week.
And if you could only know the compliments your bouquet has been given, the words sound the same
when they hit my ears and I'm sorry, my apologies.
Angie will miss you.
I suppose that's why she let go feeling
Oh so sentimental but never shallow. I can't bear to think about her much, because she loved you more than I knew love had the power too.
What is left of what that dinner table once was?
Vern has gone, you have gone. Willard abandoned the lot of you, and I'm just not sure I ever want to make it as long as you folks.
Take me out early, so my friends don't die before me.
Found in a manilla folder from some years prior.
Request permission to use this poem