Bob V.

Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep-- I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night. I believe your favourite poem speaks a lot about you.