Ashes to Ashes

We talk of things metaphysical
without really knowing anything we are saying,
hoping some of it will ring true.

We talked of death once.
You said when you split this scene
you wanted to be turned to ash and buried
beneath an apple tree to feed the succulent fruit
and be eaten forever.
Thinking it hysterical you giggled in fits.
I smiled, unable to decide how I felt.

I agreed that I couldn't stand the thought
of being buried in the ground, alone.
I do not want to lie in water and dirt
and wait for the earth to do its job on me
when it finally gets around to it.

I am like you, wish to become ash,
light as the air and given to you,
imaginative one,
to decide my fate.
Will I fly on the wind?
Will I be fed back to the earth,
fuel the greenery that will provide
your air after I am gone?

I trust you to pick the perfect place
for me, as I would pick the perfect
tree for you under which
to rest in peace.