This poem was written for a picture I was drawing for my cousin. We had cried all night (off and on, of course.) about Rolo's death and played the scene with every sad song we could think of- from "Boy and the Ghost", to "Concrete Angel", to "Stained Glass Masquerade". Trust me, that's a variety.

Anyways, Rolo needs love.

Tribute to Rolo

Death is not the end
It is merely a start
Your soul doesn't depend
On the beating of your fragile heart.

When Death has kissed your lips
And your skin grows ashen-gray
Though your body may be locked in cold crypts
You are yet here with us to stay.

What has never come
Will not be missed
But what has come and gone
Will forever live on in morning mists.

I like the first stanza best, personally. Please tell me what you think about this short, midgety poem. Gomen about the lame last line and the shortness. n.n'