Ben Foster 4th May 1985 - 27th April 2008

Do not weep,
I am not asleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the softly falling snow
I am the fields of ripening grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Where tranquil oceans meet the land
I am the footprints in the sand
to guide you through the weary day.

I am still here;
I'll always stay.

(Read by Mark at the funeral of his nephew, Ben Foster, on 3rd June 2008)