The frost lay soft on the mountain pine,
The river whispered low, divine,
And through the hush of evening’s grace,
A man walked slow, with weathered face.
His dog once trod this path of stone,
But now he walked the trail alone.
No jingle of tags, no bounding cheer—
Just silence deep, too sharp to bear.
He knelt beside the aspen tree,
And said, “Lord, take what’s left of me.
My truest friend, You’ve called him home,
And left me lost beneath Your dome.”
The wind replied through cedar limbs,
A sacred voice, soft as a hymn:
“My child, though sorrow weights your soul,
Your friend runs free where rivers roll.
In every dawn, in every breeze,
He waits in fields beyond these trees.
And I walk here, beside you still,
Through storm and snow, through fire and chill.”
The man looked up, the stars were bright,
Each one a tear of Heaven’s light.
He felt the warmth of unseen hands,
And knew that Christ still understands.
That night within his cabin’s keep,
He wept, then drifted into sleep.
The firelight danced on timbered wall,
Like angels’ wings that seemed to call.
And in his dreams, his dog returned—
Eyes aglow and spirit burned.
He felt a peace, both fierce and true—
The love of Christ came shining through.
So now he walks that wild terrain,
Through loss, through grief, through mountain rain.
For though his friend no longer roams,
The Savior walks to guide him home.
And when his journey’s trail shall end,
He’ll see both Christ—and his old friend.
No tears, no pain, no parting word—
Just love eternal, undisturbed.
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