Going Home

My Friend has come and got me
You don't have to worry anymore
The ground was dry and sandy
As I was gathered to the shore.

My Friend, He knows what's best
My troubles to them all He sees
As we walk, I am blissfull
While He patiently waits for me.

My Friend has taken me on my last trip
As with the others of His fleet
Never more for me to return
From where the waters meet.

R. L. Kaufhold

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I'd written this in '97, when my great-grandmother passed away. I was too shy a kid, and the adults didn't usually let us near her often, for me to get to know her well, but I sent it along to her funeral and everyone said it "fit". Wished I could've had the change to get near her.