Sprinkled
My husband wants his ashes sprinkled
Right in Central Park.
He’s picked the spot and hopes that I
Find that specific mark.
Of course, I hope I predecease
So someone else will do it.
In that case, he’ll have my request
And hope that he hops to it.
For I would like the gardens near
The river to embrace
What’s left of me, for that would be
The perfect resting place.
Why not tossed into the water?
You may think I’m slightly dim
But although I’ll just be ashes,
I can barely even swim!
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2020
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