Thursday, March 3, 2011
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 of snow, I am the sunlight of ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awake in the mornings hush I am the swift upflinging rush of quiet birds in cirlcling flight I am the soft starshine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there I did not die. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Tonya