Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the sweet-tasting autumn rain
When you awake in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of birds circling in flight
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand on my grave and weep…
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
-Mary Frye
No comments:
Post a Comment