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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.