I sit beside my fire today,
And think of yesteryear.
When you and I were young and gay-
And you were always near.
The plans we made, the vows we spake
That we would never keep-
The paths we took, the choices made,
The tears we both would weep.
The choices, aye; the lonely miles-
When we were not together,
The bridges burned, along with styles
The moaning winds, and weather.
The news I heard, of wedding vows-
My face now lined with care.
The blade of years has carved my brows
With wrinkles and to spare.
I love you still, or think I do-
Thatís neither here, nor there..
Itís only fitting, win or lose?
To love a maiden fair.