Mums

When I die,
may it be at mid-afternoon, in autumn.
May there be a a westerly breeze
carrying the scent of a burn barrel not much distant.

When I die,
lay my dog's old leash and collar across my hands.
If my life has had roses, sunflowers, asters,
leave me with simple mums

Like distracted children made to see off 
an old auntie they hardly know
and who is less interesting
than today's red leaf, or tomorrow's taste of cider.
_____

for Sunday Muse #46
 
 

Comments

Eddie said…
Gosh!! Not for a long time, please.
Beautifully written and thought provoking . . . :)
Sorry, wrong email used. This has the correct link . . . :)
Fireblossom said…
Toni--Like it, fren? It would please me no end if you did.

Blue--get it together, buster. We are very correct around here yanno. :-P
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Oh. My. Goodness. Gob-smacked.
Fireblossom said…
Thank you Sherry old friend. :-)
Helen said…
A beautiful read, Shay.. beautiful.
Sarah Russell said…
I love the thought of taking my dog’s old leash with me. And the distracted children — getting on with life. Thank you for a beautiful poem.
Vicki said…
A really lovely read, Shay. :-)
Carrie Van Horn said…
Wow Shay this is so beautiful in all of the sadness that it evokes. That second stanza really got to me! Kleenex's needed.....
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Anonymous said…
To be remembered as a garden Mum, hardy and long lasting.
Susie Clevenger said…
Yes, I love the idea of being remembered with/as mums. They bloom in such lovely colors and even when frost hits them their roots push up new greenery and blooms when warm weather comes again. I am sure you are in no hurry to exit so don't. :)
Sioux Roslawski said…
Wow! I especially loved the "burn bucket" line, but I could copy and paste the whole thing into this comment and call it all "incredible."
Fireblossom said…
Thanks so much, everyone, for your kind comments!
grapeling said…
I'm thinking there will also be peonies ~

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