Bury me not in the cool red clay
The mellowed earth of my native state
Stand not upon some neat cut grass
Watered by tears for things that pass

Inter me not amid that crop
Harvested from some deep damp spot
Those cold and gray granite blocks
Where names are blurred by all the years
Of mold and moss and relentless rain
Fields with still stone gazing grain

My wish for a wake is a simple one
Friends and families gather as one,
Play some tunes, sing some songs
Speak about trains and our days in the sun
Know I am with you to share the fun

My breath escapes its restless tide
My body holds no pain inside
For my spirit has flown to other side
The Shepherd guides me to the mountain top
Praised to be with His Holy flock
I’ve crossed the river to sing again
To talk and break bread with a feast of friends

So turn my soul-less ship to dust
Slip it into some simple cup
Where those, who wish, may come and watch
As I have already passed from planet Earth
His special place where souls are birthed

I’ll miss you and my children’s touch
But in the blink of an eye I’ll feel your touch
Though wind may take this dust to sky
I’ve crossed the river
I have not died
I ride the rails in paradise

10/21/2009

Posted on 10/21/2009
Copyright © 2024 Tony Whitaker