The tears are yours,
the pain is mine
The wounds are yours,
the blood which runs out?
Mine.
The fears are yours,
the trials are mine
The problem is yours,
Just who the hell am I?

We never sing the poet
Who is the sweetest song
His verses are suffused with delight
And words are the rippling rhythm
He breathes away from the world
And dies only in isolation

He tapped me on the shoulder
Before he had to go
Said I'll be your Guardian Angel
I just wanted you to know

He said he knows no one who went
That came back and then complained
So he guessed the place was pretty nice
And was sure he'd want to stay

He knew he'd see my grandma
Who had went three years before
She'd been waiting for him patiently
To walk him through God's door

Then he asked us not to worry
Said he knows what is in store
He was pleased with the life he lived
And knew God would show him more

Spent his last three weeks with family
Where he said his sweet goodbyes
My final memory of this man
Was the brave ending to his life

He would give to me this passion
But to the world he gave much more
The life he lived was one of love
He was the gift I most adored

In Memory
Sgt. Harold Addison Yates
My Grandfather

*Carl Joseph Roberts