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 diamonds glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripening grain
I am the gentle autumn's rain
When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the swift uprising rush of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft start that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
This is the poem we used for my sister. I love her always and miss her so much.
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