Chris Harte
If roses grow in heaven,
Lord please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my mother's arms
And tell her they're from me.
Tell her I love her and miss her,
And when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
And hold her for awhile.
Because remembering my mom is easy,
I do it everyday.
But now I have an ache within my heart
That will never go away.
I love you mom,
Love, Liz and Chris