Don't weep at my grave,
For I am not there,
I've a date with a butterfly
To dance in the air.
I'll be singing in the sunshine,
Wild and free,
Playing tag with the wind,
While I'm waiting for thee.


This poem reminds me of when Mom, Gail and I went down to the beach near Mom's house and we acted like little kids playing on the playground equipment and the beach. What fools we were and what fun we had. Connie