THE WALL OF FACES

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.

Mary Frye – 1932

Bernie and I grew up together and lived a couple houses away, we were neighbors. I remember wrecking some cars in his fathers junkyard when we were kids just playing as boys do. We had lots off fun in those days.

I Remember the times me,Joe,Terry and you used to play baseball in the pasture and when we built lean-tos in the woods and stayed in them in all kinds of weather even in the winter when there was snow up to our asses and it was colder than hell.Terry is no longer with us, he was killed in an auto accident a few years ago, now there is just me and Joe we talk about you and remember the good times we had together. You and Terry drink one for me, until I see you and we can have a drink together.
UNTIL THEN
Sgt.Wayne F.Stanley