Bury Me in the Garden

Bury me in the garden,

So that I can be with the living,

The beautiful things that grow.

Leave no mark upon the grass,

No cross should be raised,

Nor a plaque with my name,

Just bury me beneath the bulbs,

And above the songs of worms,

And let the world be as it should be,

Above my grave.

Bury me in the garden,

The space is yours to choose,

For I’ll spread out amongst the soil,

Like a flare burning bright in the cosmos.

The soil is my sky,

Each pebble and stone a sun

Or planet waiting for me to visit.

And I will, one day, one night,

As I slip away beneath a dirty heaven,

Find a place.

Bury me in the garden,

And I will become a tree,

Though perhaps not one that you will believe can,

Grow to become a beacon of leaf and bark,

Where fairies come to dance.

My roots will fall forever,

Cementing me as one/some,

And I will live above and below,

Singing and blooming,

In my garden grave.

I beg you to bury me in the garden,

So that I am never too far away,

Where I can watch my world once again,

Learn to sing and dance and play,

And maybe even forgive me for

It was I who volunteered to leave.

I’ll rest my heart in the garden,

Retrain my brain with the blooms,

And know my soul is only a short walk away,

Waiting to see you soon.



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