Once In a Willow Grove
I can't see the fading clock
but I hear those mournful chimes,
Been echoing through my heart
from the most ancient of times.
I can sense that she's standing
on some distant foreign shore,
Wond'ring if I think of her
like I had done once before.
Her hair's waiving in the breeze
while her eyes are set alight,
Younger than the years gone by
since I saw her on that night.
It was from a willow grove
under silence of the moon,
She walked on another path;
left a broken heart to swoon.
Were blossoms on the mountain
and white roses on a grave,
The photographs once cherished
are but fantasies ill saved.
I see floods in the valleys,
I walk through mem'ries ablaze,
Yet the times keep on moving
into soon forgotten days.
The hands of a clock still turn
in the whispers of the breeze,
All the thoughts that have passed by
can still bring me to my knees.
A willow grove waits no more
for the ones been left behind,
Still she stands upon the shore;
a broken heart drifts through time.
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