She is with me

Do not stand at her grave and weep.
She is not there, she do not sleep.

She is a thousand winds that blow.
She is diamond glints on the snow.

She is sunlight on ripened grain.
She is the gentle autumn rain.

When i`m awaken in the morning's hush,
She is the swift uplifting rush,

Of quiet birds in circled flight.
She is the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at her grave and cry.
She is not there, she did not die.

She is a part of what I gain.
She bless me till we meet again.

Written by Mary Frye, featured by me...
Dedicated to my granny...