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Bury my bones in the garden.

I know it's hard on you.

Plant me like a flower.

Beneath the cloudy blue.

My soul will never stray too far

away from this, our spot.

So please don't make my spirit wander

round a graveyard plot.

It would be hypocritical,

for me to be laid there.

Among the passed on parish,

eternity to share.

Plant trees above my empty shell,

so roots will embrace me.

As i return to dust and earth,

good compost shall i be.

◄ First Heartbeat

Sentinel Sycamore ►


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