The Poet's Muse
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 usher in the night
They're written in the summer breeze
That tempt 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
Waiting for someone to use
Their words will never pass away
For the world is the poet's muse
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