~In Loving Memory of Max~

28th of June~11th of July 2002

ENTER

When God calls little children,

To dwell with him above.

We mortals sometimes question,

The wisdom of his love.

For no heartache compares with

The death of one small child

Who does so much to make our world

Seem wonderful, and mild.

Perhaps God Tires of calling

The aged to his fold,

And so he picked a rosebud,

Before it can grow old.

God knows how much we need them,

And so he takes but a few,

To make the land of heaven

More beautiful to view

Believing this is difficult

Still, somehow we must try,

The saddest word mankind knows

Will always be “goodbye”

~Author Unknown~

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