They are not dead, who leave us this great heritage of
They still live in our hearts, in the happiness we knew,
in the dreams we shared;
They still breathe in the lingering fragrance windblown
From their favourite flowers…
They still smile in moonlight’s sliver and laugh
In sunlight’s sparkling gold;
They speak in the echoes of words we’ve
Heard them say again and again…
They still move in the rhythm of waving grasses,
In the dance of tossing branches.
They are not dead; Their memory is warm in our hearts,
Comfort in our sorrow.
They are not apart from us, but a part of us…
For love is eternal; and those we love
Shall be with us throughout eternity.
Mary E. Richardson