Here lies one dead lily
the things she wrote were silly
She screamed from her coffin
"do not place my lily friends on top,
leave the door open for them to visit often"
It is my one wish, I do not ask a lot
In an open field not a burial plot
place me, I will toil not, complain not,
die not, forever
Or:
I am but one of many blooms in a crowd of flowers.
We all feel the
rain in our faces and the wind in our petals,
the bees buzzing and flying
inside us to take and smudge us with pollen.
We feel the seasons change, we grow old,
wither, die, and return in the Spring, to push our glorious heads up
thru the earth to bask in the Sun once more.
Or:
Here lies the Lily of the Day
She wrote book, poem and essay
Which brought her fame,fortune all her way
Or:
Here lies the Lily who drew,
painted and stetched,
She wandered about with brush and palette
She was dismayed when all her great works
were declared self-portraits.
Or:
Here lies the Anti-Lily
She toiled, and toiled,
and fussed and with much
todo, accomplished nothing.
Or:
