On The Edge Poem by Wesley Willis

If you're looking for my headstone
It's by the back fence, over there.
Along the edge, where leaves dance and play.
Spring robins sing there, all alone.
Our memories are everywhere.
When the storm clouds are turning gray.
Beneath this ground, my family's gone.
A hundred years have come, just to go.
Only headstones have words to say.
But the breeze and birds have their tone.
The fence line is gone, that I know.
Mothers and dads, their prayers still pray.
That fence line is further away.
Expanding, it will always grow.
In the center is where I'd stay.
But I'd rather be on the edge.
If I could, I would make it so.
Rustle me into the leaves to play.
And always give to God my pledge.
My pledge are the words on display.
With life and death, row after row.
But please, just leave me on the edge.