I will not stand at your grave and weep
You are not there; You do not sleep.
You are a thousand winds that blow,
You are the diamond glints on snow,
You are the sun on ripened grain,
You are the gentle autumn rain.
When I awaken in the morning's hush
You are the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
You are the soft stars that shine at night.
I will not stand at your grave and cry,
You are not there; You did not die.
by mary elizabeth frye
I will always carry you in my heart De
Saturday June 2, 2018 at 4:47 pm