It was in the spring
Beneath the canopy of
oak boughs
Where you kissed me
for the first time
It was in the summer
In the dappled shade
of the same oak
Where you said I do
It was in the autumn
Beneath the falling
leaves of oak
Where you were laid to
sweet repose
Now it’s winter
And the oak boughs are
as empty as my life
But soon I will join
you dear wife
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