Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the leaves that whisper in the autumn air,
I am the apple tree in the garden, standing fair.
I am underneath your blanket when it’s cold,
I am watching the sunset by the stairs, shining gold.
I am sitting with you on the terrace at night,
I have become a sculpture, not leaving you out of my sight.
I am all the daisies on the field, glistening white,
I am just a touch away,
Like the warmth of the sun’s ray.
I can feel your gentle touch on my little head,
When once again, I rested in your bed.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
Inspired and frame of the poem by Elizabeth Frye.