When Poets Die

When poets die, their words live on

You see them everywhere

They're written in the moon and stars

Or maybe, a humble prayer

They're written in the morning sun

As the sunshine brings us light

You can find them in the sunsets

That ushers in the night

They're written in the summer breeze

That tempts the leaves to dance

They're written in the beautiful flowers

That brings the spring romance

They're written in the winter snows

As snowflakes start to fall

They're written in the autumn leaves

In trees, both big and small

When poets die, their words live on

They never pass away

Anywhere your heart can look

Our words are here to stay