I know not why, I think this way,
These words of mine, I write today.
This thing called �D� � it's not for me,
But who really wants it, who can say?
I think of her � my wife you see,
For she's the one, who's got the �D�.
I don't know why, I want to cry.
It came to her, instead of me.
I think at times, it�s really unfair,
For anyone to have to bear,
What millions do � type one or two?
They need a friend � someone to care.
I hope that I can be that friend,
To love her always, 'til the end.
But why it's she, who's got the �D�?
Can't tell why, with these words I send.
I only know I couldn't cope,
With all she does, but only hope �
If I get �D�, then I and she,
Would stay entwined, like strands of rope.
I want to thank the friends we've met
In the chat rooms, on the Net.
My wife and I � to those with �D�
For their support, we feel in debt.
And now to God, from up above,
Who gives us all his tender love,
We pray to Thee � a cure for �D�,
For that's what we are dreaming of.
Dennis
�to his wife Pat
