Mary E.Frye

* * *
Do not stand at my grave and weep -
I am not here, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamonds glints on the snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die...


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