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.
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