Tuesday, 17 June 2014

in remembrance

Do not stand at 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 snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

 
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds 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.
  

Mary Frye


Pittenweem East Neuk of Fife

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