Apple Pie.

someone's in the kitchen singing soft and low
I can smell an apple pie it's cooling on the window sill
words so beautiful sung by an angel
I can feel her warm embrace.

our living room is quiet now
the kids have grown and moved away
but the memories of little voices still keep me awake at night
I still listen to what they have to say.

when I close my eye's I can taste that apple pie
I can see her standing in front of the sink
singing Halleluiah as she washes pots and pans
halleluiah through the night.

I've been behind this plow all day long
chopping wood and feeding hogs
remembering how she always made me smile.

the tears fall down like summer rain
and sometimes I feel I just can't stand the pain
but here memory is all I I left to live with so I keep on going
to see her each new day.

one foot in front of the other
one day at a time
this old farm would fall apart without me
so I wipe the tears and dust off my hat
and follow that plow one row at a time.

I can still smell that apple pie
cooling on the window sill
and she still makes me smile
halleluiah through the night.