A little turtle as
Cute as can be and he
Winked at me and he
Sailed away on a lilly
Pond of bright blue and
With a flip of his tail
He sailed away under the
Sky so blue and he
Slipped neath a leaf unseen
As the lilies danced gently
In the perfect view.

As the sun dips below the sea
And the colorful rainbow
Dances wild and free and
They paint the clouds
With a golden glow and
The butterflies will flow
And it's a beautiful sight  
And ending our day's delight
In the twilight all is at peace
Tonight.

The life of a poet lives on
through all their poems,
but the day I do depart,
I want to be cremated.

I will entrust family
and some fellow poets
to let my ashes sink
into some deep black ink.
And I'd want them to write
the stanzas I secretly saved
just for the occasion.

That way
they can say
that I put
all my heart
and my body
into poetry.
Literally.

My soul,
on the other hand,
would live on happily
as an eternal poet
having fun rhyming
while everyone's crying.
(and I'd wish they'd stop.)