When somebody dies, a cloud turn into an angel,
and flies up to tell God to put another
flower on a pillow.
A bird gives the message back to the world,
and sings a silent prayer that makes the rain cry.
People disappear, but they never really go away.
The spirits up there put the sun to bed,
wake up grass, and spin the earth in dizzy circles.
Sometimes you can see them dancing
in a cloud during the day-time,
when they’re supposed to be sleeping.
They pain the rainbows and also the sunsets
and wake waves splash and tug at the tide.
They toss shooting stars and listen to wishes.
And when they sing windsongs, they whisper to us,
don’t miss me too much.
The view is nice and I’m doing just fine.