Scatter My ashes
in a forgotten creek
For it is not there
that I will sleep

Trample my dust
underneath your feet
With boots made of leather
by those who will keep

Return what of me
is still then left here below
Unto the earth from there
where I once did come

For I will
by the Grace of God
Be in that faraway place
Where all and everything
there is Love.

-R.

8.29.17

-LA