Though my time here with you has come to its earthly end,
Try to smile through your tears with thoughts of me, my friend
You’ll find me in the simple things like the smell of fresh-cut pine,
And in the eyes of my son, there’s no denying his bloodline.
The morning sunrise, a clear running creek, a waving field of hay
These reminders of me you’ll see, each and every day
A dusty drive down an old dirt road or in an ice-cold glass of tea,
Just take the time to look around, for that’s where you’ll find me.