Sprinkled

My husband wants his ashes sprinkled

Right in Central Park.

He’s picked the spot and hopes that I

Find that specific mark.

 

Of course, I hope I predecease

So someone else will do it.

In that case, he’ll have my request

And hope that he hops to it.

 

For I would like the gardens near

The river to embrace

What’s left of me, for that would be

The perfect resting place.

 

Why not tossed into the water?

You may think I’m slightly dim

But although I’ll just be ashes,

I can barely even swim!