It was not the headstone on his grave
Or the epitaph saying he’d been brave;
Not the candles lit or prayers they’d said
When they recalled their friend, now dead –
Nor was it flowers they’d placed with care
Upon his grave, nor poignant prayer.
The thing which most engaged their minds
Were thoughts of a more lasting kind.
He’d given them love; shown that he cared –
These precious gifts he’d freely shared.
With a heart of gold he did convey
These blessings all along life’s way.
The flowers on graves soon wilt and die
And the mourners leave and say goodbye,
But the gift you’ll leave, when you depart,
Is your kindness, carved on human hearts.
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