Climbing hill, crossing windy plain
I’ve paddled river lake and sea
Outdoors I grew and searched for me
My joys have come from what I’ve known
And how the land has shaped me grown
Into a man strong and proud
Confident, capable, seldom loud
A day will come when my eyes will dim
I’ll walk no more, so grant this whim
Leave me here when my time is due
Among the things I loved to do
Bury me not ‘neath the cold cold ground
Dark and wet and six foot down
Scatter my ashes up here instead
On sparkling lake lite evening red
© Copyright 2016 Marty Vandermolen
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