When Planting Flowers On My Grave 7/4/2007 0: 00 Am Poem by David McLansky
When Planting Flowers On My Grave 7/4/2007 0: 00 Am
How fragile is our love and labor,
It flickers like a wind-whipped flame;
How fast our wick does burn and taper,
Ending life in smoke-like fame;
Plant perennials here in my soil,
Knowing Fate's inconstancy;
That from my grave for all your toil
I can refresh your memory.
That I may raise a ribboned hand
And give a furtive wave
To remind you of the laughing man,
Your father in his grave
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4/23/2024 8:08:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
