In a quiet country cemetery,
Where the gentle breezes blow,
Lies our son we love so dearly;
He died 18 years ago.

His resting place we visit,
Placing flowers there with care,
But no one knows our heartache,
When we turn and leave him there.

Though his smile is gone forever,
And his hands we cannot touch,
Still we have so many memories
Of the son we loved so much.

His memory is our keepsake,
With which we will never part.
God has him in His keeping;
We hold him in our hearts.

~Author Unknown~