Son Death Poem

Summer days and school plays,
Nature walks and little talks.
Sports and games, it's all the same,
Could pass for "PRO" at anything.
Quickly here he found his place,
Just can't resist that "BABY FACE".
Little song and dance?-Depends,
He'll have to ask his girlfriends.
Found exactly what love was,
Then gave it back to all of us.
His smile warms all others that are cold,
No doubt possesses a heart of gold.
Music played with horns and keys,
Flowed from him so easily.
Sketching his "TRIBAL ART" he finds,
An unknown image from within his mind.
Special qualities that he possess,
Label him above the rest.
At GOD'S table he has "EARNED" a seat,
The "TRIBAL ART" is GOD'S receipt.
To let you know he's doing fine,
Just allowed to cut in line.
Loved by all but heaven can't wait,
Jeremy by Tracy @FamilyFriendPoems

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