Time's gone by, calendar leaves and snows fly I might write a poem if I could think of the words to try What is there to remember? The winter was December Just one more year left behind
She never looked round to see me She never looked round at all All I saw were shadows on the wall She never looked round to see me She never looked round at all All I heard was snow that had to fall
She left in the morning, quietly, that was her way And on returning, I find I had nothing to say What is there to remember? The winter was December Just one more year left behind
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