Proper Burial
When I die bury me
And plant a tree
Atop what's left of me.
Let my empty shell
Feed and nurture
Something sacred for the future.
Hang an old tire swing
And bird feeders and
Wind chimes in my branches.
Find relief in my shade
And contemplate
And write poetry.
And plant a tree
Atop what's left of me.
Let my empty shell
Feed and nurture
Something sacred for the future.
Hang an old tire swing
And bird feeders and
Wind chimes in my branches.
Find relief in my shade
And contemplate
And write poetry.
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