Will you meet me at the river,
where the waters lap the sand?
We can find a place to sit, since,
I'll be far too tired to stand.

You made it there before I did,
so many long years ago.
Along my way I lost the path,
without you here, the way to show.

I wandered, lost, once you were gone,
somewhere amidst hurt and denial.
Before I realized I was lost,
I'd been that way for quite a while.

I've tried to find that old, green path,
but signs of it are out of sight-
as if the daylight never shone,
and you carried the only light.

But I know where the river runs,
and I will get there, by and by-
if I must carve my own, new path,
I know I can, if I but try.

So find a little shady spot,
where we can sit and pass the time.
We'll catch up on the days we lost,
and laugh at life's unending rhyme.

Until the specters fade from sight,
we'll count no moment there a loss.
Then hold my hand, as I descend
to Judgment's waters, there to cross.