The Big Man Upstairs

Death.
It's a
sad
thing.
And yet,
why sad?
He's
going
to meet
his
Maker.
Why sad?
He's
up there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Patiently.
'Till
you, go to
be
up there
with him,
too.

poem by Hannah Shier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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