We met upon a narrow bridge,
The water sang below the ridge,
We spoke as if we'd always known,
The path we took was all our own.
We stood before the autumn hill,
Your voice was soft, your hands were still,
We turned around and faced the road,
Each carrying a silent load.
The dishes dry beside the sink,
The window frames a bit of pink,
But every hello turns to goodbye,
A truth we can't deny though we try.
The dishes dry beside the sink,
The window frames a bit of pink,
And though we know it's time to go,
We'll carry every seed we sow.
We stood before the autumn hill,
Your voice was soft, your hands were still,
We turned around and faced the road,
Each carrying a silent load.
The dishes dry beside the sink,
The window frames a bit of pink,
But every hello turns to goodbye,
A truth we can't deny though we try.
The dishes dry beside the sink,
The window frames a bit of pink,
And though we know it's time to go,
We'll carry every seed we sow.
