Do not stand over my grave and weep
I am not there I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's rush
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds circling flight
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand over my grave at night
I am not there
I did not die
~ Love you and your poems Mary Elizebeth Frye
