Goodbye Mum...

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.

By Mary Frye