A Simple Request
Is this life we live to be measured |
on the words we leave behind,
the words we leave for posterity
for our off-spring or theirs to find?
Or a simple set of instructions
of how we would like it to be
when we head for that last big round-up
and our spirits at last fly free?
When this heart stops its beat
and this brain closes down,
don't be sad, know it's what I must need.
Just think of the good times,
of what we have shared
and please, pay my wishes some heed.
Lay this old body down on a few gum leaves,
but wrap me in no white shroud.
Instead swathe me in the red black and gold,
in the flag of which I'm so proud.
And when it is over, just gather me up,
take my ashes out there in the west.
Find a quondong tree and scatter me there,
so I'll nurture some seedlings there in sweet air.
My country, my home, my land and my friend.
I'll be happy , for that's what I've planned for my end.
I don't need this old frame
in the place that I'll be.
There's a room in God's mansion
awaiting for me.
quondong: small Australian tree
bearing edible fruits.
© 2008 cherryk
(All rights reserved)