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 sun 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 Elizabeth Frye - 1932
Love that poem! is the picture yours? :)
ReplyDeleteSomeone gave me that poem when my grandma died. I always remembered it.
ReplyDeleteI read that poem at my Granddads funeral, It's a wonderful poem and I get a lump in my throat when ever I read it. That photo is just as powerful as the poem.
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