My funeral

Would they cry for me, I wonder
And praise me like a saint 
At my funeral, small and quaint 
And say how I loved to paint  
Before I was 6 feet under 

Would they miss me, perhaps?
And offer me my favorite flowers  
After, they’d reminisce for hours
And remember how I played in rain-showers 
Prior to my collapse 

How lovely that would be 
If people shed tears just for me
At my funeral