His harvest may be over, But in my heart it’s not Because I still can see him In my every waking thought
I can see him at the counter Drinking his cup of coffee, eating a slice of pie I can see him walking out the door Grabbing one more donut, kissing Mom good-bye I can see him in his coveralls In his boots and cap I can see him in the recliner The paper in his lap
I can see him in the tractor Driving in the field, plowing up the land I can see him at the lake Standing on the dock, fishing pole in hand
I can hear him in the church Greeting friends and chatting, singing hymns with abundant cheer I can hear him in the cattleyard Hollering at a stubborn steer
I can hear him with the grandbabies Playing in the sandbox, playing a game I can hear him chuckling and laughing Loving being Grandpa Loving when they say his name I can hear him in the kitchen A phrase he always used to say “There’s always tomorrow. And if there is no tomorrow It doesn’t matter anyway.”
There are no more tomorrows

For this great man is gone

But always in our hearts His memory will live on