Muriel Countryman, you died too young.
Why were you crossing that freeway?
Less than half my age now you were.
So much life that you missed out on.
Muriel, you hated that name, Murray,
that was the name we new you by.
You were short and you were sweet.
You helped me feel good at a time,
when nothing else in my life ever did.
You left this earth at only fourteen,
Murray, I hope you can see this now,
this poem is for you, your memory.
I drive past the place where you died,
and it always makes me think of you.
I love you, and I will miss you, forever.