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