Bury Me Where The Cherry Trees Blow

Bury me where the cherry trees blow,

Right by the river, banks filled with flower snow

Right under our old and gnarly tree.

We hung a swing from it when we were young,

My lover and me, fearless and carefree

When no worries or regrets over our shoulders hung.

Bury me where the cherry trees blow

Let it be a clear spring day with rabbits on the run

Let it be midday, let waters glisten under the sun

Let the river part slowly when we let the final boat go

Let my grave lie under a white blanket made of blossoms of the tree

In the hallowed month of April,

Let a soft breeze blow over me.

My mind floats away in the lilt of this bird’s trill

Years have been and past, but it seems like yesterday

That I with my brothers lay

Under the shadows this then young tree cast

Laughing, joking, lips cherry red, with Spring here at last

My childhood, my youth, my golden days

Pass by me, a sepia collage, a long dreamy daze

My days are sanding away from the slips

My nights pulled from beneath my feet

When the day of the day comes

When the oil lamp is dry

And the end of the tunnel aglow

Bury me where the cherry trees blow.