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I am not there
by Mary E.
Frye
Do not stand
at my grave and
weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep
I am a thousands winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake
in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting brush
of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die. |
