The date of your death was a day I'll always hate.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned 78.
When you became ill, you went under the knife.
A surgeon amputated your leg to try to save your life.
He also operated on your stomach and it was enough to cause fear.
You couldn't be saved and it's so sad because you're no longer here.
When you died, it was upsetting because your demise was so unfair.
Happy Birthday, Mom, you're in Heaven and I'm glad you're up there.
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Author:
randyjohnson71 (
Online) - Published: August 2nd, 2026 10:33
- Comment from author about the poem: Dedicated to Agnes Greene-Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013
- Category: family
- Views: 0
Online)
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