will you sing to me when i am dead
when i can no longer feel raindrops
falling upon my head.

will you play me the cello
as you sit beside my grave,
dying shrubbery, and my life encased.

a closed casket to entrap,
encase, enclose my foolish soul
my ramblings gone stale and old -

will you sing to me when i am dead
like you used to,
when i were a child
ever young and foolish too -