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RIP Grandad

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 sun 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 circling flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

justjord

@justjord

Just a small town guy trapped in my crazy mind.

100
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Comments & Feedback (4)

Awe </3

That's awesome mate really good πŸ˜ƒ

Beautiful 😿

A beautiful poem written by Mary Frye in 1932....a fitting choice for a loved one....your gramp would have loved this...😘😘😘

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