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Bury me with acorns,
Don't bury me in a box.
If you must, bury me in
A shroud of cotton.
Bury me in a simple shift
Don't bury me in a suit;
My rising will not be a formal affair.
Don't wear your best to
See me off.
Wear what you can get dirty.
You'll be spreading the mulch
On my gravesite.
Bury me with grave goods,
So if I am discovered by
Archeologists someday,
They will know I was loved.
Bury me with flowers,
But don't bury me with fresh roses.
Nay, plant on me perennials,
So you can still see me every year.
Finally, bury me with a stone marker,
But don't spend a fortune.
Carve for me the name I chose,
No matter what others may call me.
Bury me under sturdy granite,
So I can yet leave my mark
On something set for years.
While you may not see me,
These marks will be my gift to you.
Bury me with my money,
But the riches of the things I hold
Most dear.