My grandson died on New Year’s Eve,
He passed too soon, only seventeen.
Sowing his oats, as we all do,
Drinking more than his little body should.
Did it matter that he bought all that booze,
Drinking like he had nothing to lose?
Not thinking about tomorrow or caring if it came,
He was out celebrating, there is no blame.
I silently suffer for the part I played
Providing him funds on his last day.
Before it was over he placed a call,
And that my dears says it all.
“Thanks for the gift card grandma” he said
“I love you and I’ll see you in a few days” he said
“You’re welcome” I said
“I love you too, sweetie” I said
“Have fun and be safe” I said
My grandson died on New Year’s Eve.
He had some fun and he is safe.
Safe in the arms of an angel above.
Although he is gone, I still feel his love.
Deborah Cox

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