Let me lay

where my home

always was,

so it will

always be there

please.

I have gold

in my heart,

I call it fire,

I call it passion,

I call it love.

I have silver

in my head,

I call it hope,

I call it IQ,

I call it personality.

I have opal

in my organs,

and dirt

in my lungs,

let me be cremated

and be one with

the Earth that

made me,

and my veins

will be

the tree roots of

the weeping willow,

maybe it won't

weep anymore.

maybe the seeds

are the family I

was too young to have,

and maybe I can live on.

Let this pleasantry

never be ignored

and always be restored.