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pinky  |
This night I wrote a love poem.
It went like this:
You
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pinky |
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 awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft starlight at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die
Mary Elizabeth Frye
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Tod
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