The Burial Place
Casually, and out of no where
My best friend turned to me and said:
Of coming death I've no fear
Just bury me in Port Charlotte when I'm dead
Why there, I asked, a child,
An old forgotten flame went before you
Why not Jamaica's tropic wild
Why has southwest Florida so allured you?
None of those, none of those,
She told me, have you ever seen
The family plot that I will lose
It's a quiet remote woodland scene
A dense bush of animal sounds
A dark place even at top of day
Where loneliness still abounds
O let me not dead in a dead place lay.
I am a child of civilization
I like the music and the lights
The sound of feet, commotion
Of the cars, party through the nights
Port Charlotte cemetery meets
The bill, there is a church near
And a school, and always busy streets
At nights the clubs are never drear
Bury me where the party goes on
She said, and I amused, smiled
And swallowed every question
So did not her composure spoiled
For shall the dead enjoy all that
Or mingle with us again, vain dream
But I'll keep my broom lest some bat
Dare try to make my children scream.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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