Poetry

My heart is boken; like like the hearstrings of an unstrung harp
Given to a prodigal child to play
You were my brother, my best friend
To talk to one night and be gone the next
A tradgedy-like a play; even Shakespeare could not have written a sadder ending than yours
Today is your dying day-the day the angels came for you
That you never were to return to me
Are you flying in the in the Blue Sky?  Are you soaring in the Heavans?  I miss you every day.
Like a piece of of me is missing; the puzzle is incomplete now.  
What happened to you, Chaz, in your deep requeim of sleep
You are now in your six foot under home.
Your picture still sits by my bed-as a reminder that you are not forgotten; you are missed.
May GOD Bless You and keep You in His loving care, May the Heavans be your Golden Home.......
You were the best person I ever knew.