Through this walk of life, which has carried me from babe to man-child and now curmudgeon (a crusty ill tempered old man), I feel for you. Struggling to make sense of my purpose and place in life, my mind dwells often on thoughts of you. Sitting, to myself, with tear-filled eye as life does part of that which it is supposed to do, I pray for you. Lying on a bed of sickness, not certain if tomorrow will come to visit and wishing that you could now that there is freedom from all that besets you...I feel love for you.
