The warm spring wind flows from the mount,
as water would rush through a canyon,
down, down to the holy field below.
Missy with a kiss good-bye and an ‘I love you’
joins the flowing wind, down, down.
Missy
She and Thee.

On a journey schoolward,
so ‘twas thought.
But lo, she’s rather floating, floating
toward the great eternal abyss which
waits patiently for her on the holy field below.
Floating
She and Thee.

What thoughts were hers that day with
fate? She knew not what lay ahead.
Innocent and happy thoughts,
sisterly and young at heart thoughts,
dreams still to be dreamed thoughts.
Together
She and Thee.

Driving down into the valley,
in the afternoon shadows of the mount,
past the hills of yellow flowers waving
when there on the holy field’s abyss
she met herself, met herself in death that day.
Driving
She and Thee.

The angels came around her
as she flowed from life to death.
His Spirit gently lifted her,
and saved her from the depths.
There was comfort for her waiting
in the holy field’s abyss.
Lifted
She and Thee.

We know now the urgent cry of the pain of loss, of
friendship and love left on the holy field below,
of a daughter’s smiles now seen only from the edge of
the eternal abyss.
Agony and heartbreak our teachers,
our lesson’s sad comfort:
Missy
She and Thee.

SRB, 6-6-1999