The Cross By The Side Of The Road

-- By Ruth Nichols *imom* (in memory of Matt)

We all seem the same, yet we’re not at all;

Some stand so straight, some are ready to fall.

It’s always the same when you pass us by,

You wonder what happened, you let out a sigh.

Ambitious dreams lost, families now broken,

Hearts torn apart and words left unspoken.

Laugher and joy removed from tomorrow,

You let your mind roam and feel such sorrow.

There was a time, before our arrival,

When life was naïve, laughed at survival.

Life was savored and lived, carefree and pure,

Life was youthful and strong, life was so sure.

So abruptly those times came to a halt

And nothing was altered by finding fault.

We are the same in the reason we’re here;

Yet, so different in the name that we bear.

We each stand here representatively;

Not for an end, but for a history.

A history, a life----with so much untold,

A history, a life----that will never unfold,

A history, a life----worth much more than gold.

All seen in the cross by the side of the road.