There’s a chair by the window where you used to sit.
Sunlight falls, but you ain’t in it.
Coffee’s cold, yet I still pour two—
some habits linger long after you.

I still hear your voice some nights,
soft as wind through the pines,
calling me from somewhere I can’t see,
somewhere just beyond my reach.

And a white dove flew this morning,
cut a line across the sky.
I stood there torn between
breaking down and wondering why.
I wanted to shake my fists at heaven,
ask Him why you had to go—
but that dove kept climbing higher,
like it knew what I don’t know.

You carried pain like a quiet storm,
smiled through it as if it were nothing more.
But I saw the weight behind your eyes,
heard the truth beneath your sighs.

Now I walk these roads alone,
but I’m not really on my own.
There’s a peace I can’t explain—
like your hand still in my hand.

And that white dove kept on rising,
through the clouds, through the blue.
Something broke inside me then,
and something mended too.
I still ache to hold you close,
still curse the day you had to leave—
but if that dove is where you’re flying,
then I’m learning how to believe.

Are you dancing now in the light?
Is your burden finally gone?
Do you laugh the way you used to
before the hurt came on?
I don’t understand the leaving,
but I’m starting to see this through—
if heaven’s where that dove is going,
then heaven’s where I’ll find you.

That white dove disappeared in light,
but it didn’t fade away.
It left a piece of something holy
I can feel today.
There are still tears in these hands,
but they’re not the same as before—
because I know you’re free in glory now,
and I’m not angry anymore.

So fly on, my love. Don’t look behind.
I’ll be alright in time.
That white dove showed me what I couldn’t see— you’re finally free…
and that’s enough for me.

Music Catalog

(This is a reworked rendering from an old established poem that has been published in many publications and forums. The original author is unknown but to them is given attribution.)

You take a spark of wonder
and a quiet, steady grace,
fold in all the laughter
life has scattered through this place.
Let the trials add their wisdom,
let the tears enrich the soul—
this simple way of living
is a journey made whole.

This is the recipe for living,
measured out in joy and pain.
Every moment has its meaning,
every loss and every gain.
With a heart that keeps on giving
and a faith that holds us near—
this is the recipe for living,
growing sweeter year by year.

Take the days that feel uncertain;
stir them gently with His peace.
Let His mercy lift the burden;
let His kindness never cease.
Every smile becomes a blessing,
every sorrow shapes the way—
all the flavors of His goodness
in the life we live today.

This is the recipe for living,
measured out in joy and pain.
Every moment has its meaning,
every loss and every gain.
With a heart that keeps on giving
and a faith that holds us near—
 this is the recipe for living,
growing sweeter year by year.

And when the seasons turn again,
and pressure lifts, and hope appears,
 we pause to see His faithful hand
in every step across the years.
Gratitude becomes our story;
praise becomes our daily bread—
for the God who walks beside us
and the grace that lies ahead.

This is the recipe for living,
measured out in joy and pain.
Every moment has its meaning,
every loss and every gain.
With a heart that keeps on giving
and a faith that holds us near—
this is the recipe for living,
growing sweeter year by year.

Music Catalog

We were young and full of promise,
rings in hand, we said forever.
Down in Reno, hearts wide open,
not yet knowing all we’d weather.
Lake Tahoe held the morning,
soft as words we couldn’t see;
time would tell the quiet story—
petal by petal, you and me.

Like roses in a wild field growing
through the sun and through the rain,
time rolls on, but we keep holding;
love has learned to carry pain.
Every thorn and every blessing,
every tear and every grace—
still in bloom, still together,
after all these years we’ve stayed.

Seven lives around our table,
hearts that learned to bend and mend.
Now the branches reach out farther,
children’s children without end.
Eight and four, the circle widening,
roots run deep beneath it all;
in the quiet of the country,
we have learned to stand, not fall.

Like roses in a wild field growing
through the sun and through the rain,
time rolls on, but we keep holding;
love has learned to carry pain.
Every thorn and every blessing,
every tear and every grace—
still in bloom, still together,
after all these years we’ve stayed.

Now every road is walked together,
every step, both weak and strong.
Doctor’s rooms and daily mercies—
we have leaned on love so long.
Little comes between our breathing;
you’re the peace I’ve come to know.
Stronger still for all we’ve carried,
more than words could ever show.

Christ has been the quiet center
through the years we didn’t see.
Grace has held what we surrendered,
kept our hearts in harmony.
Not a perfect road behind us,
but your faithful hand in mine;
and the roses keep on blooming,
even now, beyond our time.

Like roses in a wild field
growing through the years,
still soft and slow, time rolls on,
but we keep going—
more in love than long ago.
Every thorn has shaped the beauty,
every grace has left its trace;
still in bloom, still together,
held within His perfect grace.

Music Catalog