Place a beehive on my grave
and let the honey soak through.
When I'm dead and gone,
That's what I want from you.
The streets of heaven are gold and sunny,
but I'll stick with my plot and a pot of honey.
Place a beehive on my grave
and let the honey soak through.
(A poem from "The Secret Life of Bees", a novel that I am reading recently)
