Bubba

"Bubba"

My friend of nine or ten,
My protector of four years.
And now I've a choice to make,
Through heartfelt tears.

You see he's held on,
Long past his time.
Now his fate rests in tiny hands,
That are mine.

Does he hurt too much?
Is it his time to die?
The question rests against me,
While I set and cry.

Is it his time to fade?
Is it his time to go?
I know what I have to do,
My God I just don't know.

d
04 30 08