WITH CARE I PLANNED MY DEATH

WITH CARE I PLANNED MY DEATH

I dreamed that I lay dying and with care I planned my death,
Counting down the days until I drew my final breath.

And I wasn’t being morbid, just intentional and bold
To plan my funeral start to end, before my corpse was cold.

I had a list of songs to play to help my friends to mourn,
Jackson Browne and Judy Collins would be there to perform.
For a Dancer, Singing Lessons, Secret Gardens of the heart.
A Place Called Home at the End of the Storm, and that was just the start.

And there would be Grace Griffith to sing her song My Life
And the sun would shine through brilliantly and at last there would be light.

Then I dreamed that I lay dying, and there was no one there to cry.
No chariot came to my door, to take me to that golden shore.
There was no fabled heaven, no sweet by and by,
Nor was there a lake of fire in which the sinners fried.

I dreamed I floated lost in space, in exile from the human race.
And all I knew of dying was in books and magazines,
Religion’s solemn admonitions sandwiched in between.

My funeral was a free for all, a party and a blast,
And I was blissfully unaware, peace had come at last.

I dreamed that I lay dying, and with care I planned my death,
Counting down the days until I drew my final breath.

I was cremated and my ashes strewn upon some beauteous spot.
An Eden blessed on planet Earth, a space that time forgot.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED