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Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do nt sleep.
I am in the thousand winds that blow,I am the soft falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,I am in the grateful rush
Of beautyful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die. Mary Frye

Zum Geburtstag,
Karl und Susanne