Tony Poor 1961-2018

I lost my little nephew today.  He was laughter and joy.  He was goodness and fun.  Only 57, and he is gone from us.  To me he is still a little boy.  Frozen in time.   This is what I think he would say to his family today--
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
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.
Mary Elizabeth Frye