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 the softly 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 graceful rush Of birds in circling flight. I am the star shine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room, I am the birds that sing, I am in the each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die. May Frye Picture By: Robert Fobear Poem: I AM NOT THERE