Tuesday 22 February 2011 photo 1/1
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Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am a dimond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripening grain,
I am the gently falling rain.
When you wake up in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of early birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
Do not stand at my grave bereft,
I am not there. I have not left.
Annons
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Anonymous
Tue 22 Feb 2011 22:26
:')
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