Phyllis Hamilton Macko

God saw you getting tired
And a cure was not to be
So he put His arms around you 
And whispered "Come to me."

With tearful eyes we watched you
As you slowly slipped away
And though we loved you dearly
We couldn't make you stay.

Your golden heart stopped beating
Your tired hands put to rest
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.

...Family in the care of Erin Arteaga, Funeral Director