Roubidoux
Roubidoux (ruby do)
When at last I have passed, cast my ashes upon the blue
Roubidoux. There I will take my farewell tour through
The Ozark's of my roots. My father always knew: “He
May travel far, but one with the hills will always be”
Think me not of dust, although dust I was true,
For it was only borrowed and now has come due.
Know that, though you are of me, you are not me,
But the part that is us is our art and remains free.
There, you will find me through times remembered.
Now paint a smile with your tears and not be saddened
For my love for you has not dimmed in its passion
Only offered now through a different dimension.
We, each in our time and turn, must leave all we loved
And lived for. Mourn if you must but be not judged
For separation is pain. And for more of me do not pine
Rather celebrate what you can of what I left behind.
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