Maybe it is in the nature of love
To fall away like autumn leaves;
Yet I wonder before you step out now,
Who helps you roll up your shirt sleeves.

I reckon you can live all by yourself
And you no longer need love’s aid.
When spring whispers in after winter dies,
Maybe then fears shall be unmade.

Now, as the rain falls and memory cries,
I remember enough to mourn,
And, in a darkened corner, my heart tries
To piece back life this love has torn.