Forevermores never die.

When angels speak in tithering light, the bells may ring or chime
its there within a poet's heart, he sees those words that rhyme,

Like angels and their miracles, the love to stay or passing through
The words of a poet's soul, embed themselves
In you,

Upon wings or legs the journey starts, and beautiful is the way
To see or hear the bells or rhyme would brighten any darkened day

And cast away the loneliness, any shadow upon the land
You'll find more strength and happiness
Inside a poet's hand

A Wilders pen like feathers winged, graced the ink does fly
Captured by the readers love, forevermores
Never die