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No Title
Down there, at the bottom of a live oak tree
Lies the shell of a man whose soul left him while he slept.
He slipped out quietly while he was sleeping
Under that old oak tree.
So peacefull he looked,
I couldn't stand to cover him in dirt.
I left him there, with the breeze
in his hair and that quiet smile.
His flesh dissolved, only bones remain
Of that man, so serene in the meadow.
Flowers bloomed where his bones nest,
And I hope you'll do the same to me
When my body takes it's final rest.
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