Last Will

ankh

I, writer of poems unable
to rise above mere doggerel,
declare this to be
my last will and testament.

I appoint Summer butterflies
as my personal representatives
to administer this will.
I give and bequeath

my poems to the Wind
my heart to the Night
my dreams to the Sea
my love to the Stars.

Bury me somewhere near a tree.
Draw an ankh, plant snowdrops,
then please shed a tear of joy:
they will bloom earlier next year.

He’s so kind:
the Gardener won’t mind,
and my soul will smile
for a little while.