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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