• The wind wisps through the hallowed trees
    singing to me a lonely song
    lamenting tales of what was once,
    of love lost and love won;
    of you and me long, long ago.

    When the world was blooming in Spring
    hand in hand we had walked along
    beneath the sighing, blossomed boughs,
    their romances strewn with birdsong.
    My heart had danced to those lovely threads.

    Alas, spring eventually dies to winter.
    The chilling North-winds slowly creep
    to freeze all forms of thriving life,
    lulling the trees to an eternal sleep.
    Their boughs are hushed in sorrow.

    As I grow cold and bare inside
    my soul echoes the memories of the tune
    of that spring, that love, that life long-lost;
    those moments have faded all too soon.
    The final withered leaf breaks free.