When friendships die, we bury them.
We carry them gently to the valley
and lay them in the dirt.
We raise a memorial stone
and groan as daylight fades
and we leave the grave alone.
But we come back now and then
to track again the happy days
on ways that will not cross again,
Then gladly raise our eyes
to gaze on skies where mountains rise
like the steadfast love of Jesus.