I remember a time when
you purchasing your grave was morbid,
because I still had the ignorant thought
that you would last forever
to see my children, and their children
and their children's children, so on.

Passing by the grave yard,
it troubled me to see that stone
with your name printed neatly
because you weren't dead yet,
the ground was undisturbed
and you were not six feet below.

But now I'm glad that you bought your grave
because now it is not so troubling
to see the granite marker
with your name, birth, and death
enscribed in perminance.

Now all that disturbs me,
as I pass by the graveyard,
are the flowers
that prove you are remembered
but I can't reach you.