Along the rows
Of broken disused stone
A reminder of what was rears it’s head.
The joyful sounds of a buzzing bee
Coming over to see;
A lone visitor.
A lone visitor
To an empty space
Coloured only with grey.
So when I die,
Please,
Do not bring flowers to my funeral.
Instead plant them in the ground,
Bring me back year after year.
And when that buzzing bee lands
Upon the petals of the flowers
You have planted
I hope you do not feel loss
But a peace.
For the once coldness of death
Is no longer cold
Or coloured in grey.
For now,
Among the carefully placed rows of
Forget me nots
Death is vibrant
and full of life.
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