I am not
there
Do not stand
at my grave and weep,
Iam not there,
I do not sleep
I am in a
thousand winds that blow,
I am the
softly falling snow.
I am the
gentle showers of rain,
I am the
fields of ripening grain.
I am in the
morning hush,
I am in the
graceful rush
Of birds in
circling flight.
I am the star
shine of the night.
I am in
the flowers that bloom,
I am in a
quiet room,
I am the birds
that sing.
I am in each
lovely thing.
Do not stand
at my grave and cry,
I am not
there. I did not die.
__
Mary Frye
Daily Sentinel Obit December 18, 2003
