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