Lumbering out on my last trail,
Wandering towards
The fabled West
Where the trees and the skies
Beckon me on
To my final destination:
A shallow grave under a moonless
Night,
Out on the mirthless prairie
Where the screeching cold blows
and the coyotes
Howl.
No more woes
No marker, no monument
No mourners.
Bury me out on the Illinois prairie
From whence I came
And to where I now go
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Dont be sad
Cry if you must
But
Paradise bound is my spirit
And
Prairie bound
Are my old weary bones.
BR Schoenbein
January 27, 2016
BR: Make sure to come by and visit when you are back in town. Also, maybe you would be willing to come by and speak to our men's group at St. Francis? Have a safe trip!
ReplyDeleteI sure will Michael. You're number 1 on my list when I get into Quincy. I would be honored to speak to your men's group! Thanks so much Michael. Cant wait to see the whole family again! Take care my friend!
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