4. January 2018

Mister Mo

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 sun 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!

We miss you so much Mister Mo! 

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About missobsolet

ob•so•let imperfection is beauty, madness is genious. it is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.

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Personal Thoughts

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