by R.G. Boaler
For a little soul that didn't make it here because of an abortion in March of 1970.
Too late for cryin',
All my shame's come through,
Oh my God I'm tryin',
But still I dream of you.
I wish it didn't happen,
A life we chose to try,
I wish it wouldn't matter,
The life we forced to die.
Someday again we'll be together,
Free from tieing binds,
Where nothing more will matter,
To our hope-drenched minds.
Someday that time is growing near,
It soon will be upon us,
With you again so close and dear,
While loving forces calm us.
But now it's much too late for cryiin',
For what we almost made,
Tow parts of us are gone forever,
In darkness, silence, laid.
Yeah, it's much too late for crying',
It's time to rest my head,
The love and live we once created,
Are now far past us, dead.