If I left
And I can't visit from where I've gone...
Scatter me in places
I would liked to have been
Oh how much I love beaches
Beautiful french buildings
But do
Save some, just a handful
In a jar
Because I don't want to be too far from loved ones either.
If it's not too much to ask
I would really like this . . .
With black ink in hand
Write me a book
Of what I was, where I've been
Of the beauty and passions
The struggles and blood
That inspired my life. 

And finally
In a beautiful poetic verse,
How I left