When all of the air has left my lungs,
When all the moisture’s gone from my tongue,
Whether I plan it first or whether not,
My remains will end up in some kind of plot.
But, if the ground is not my passion,
Cremation’s an option, and spread my ashes.
Over somewhere I loved and spent much time,
Into the sea breeze, that sounds sublime.
But, I will dwell upon this hope,
It is a way for me to cope.
When no more of life’s troubles to face,
I’ll think of my grave as my parking space.
I will rise from the chassis that was once my shell.
And, travel places I knew so well.
And, visit those still upon this Earth.
Or go back in time before my birth.
Into the Eternity of the Human Race,
Return time to time to my parking space.
That way if someone visits to talk,
I’ll be there for them, alongside I’ll walk.
But, my hope is that they’ll not be sad.
I’m having more fun than I’ve ever had.
Visiting people, places, going on forever.
To me this would be my version of heaven.