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Winter nights fall early
on breaking hearts
Women left behind know that
‘round these parts
One sits a twistin’ bijou on white and lotioned hands
She has got old wooing love notes from a man
Everyone
knows by now that she
waits for what
will never come
Monday morn is welcome
Work passes time
Men still glance when she goes walking at noon’s chime
Sometimes when she is driving
she will stop by the sea
and call out past foaming black, “Dear
please come back to me.”
Everyone
knows by now that she
waits for what
will never come
Winter nights fall early
on breaking hearts
Women left behind know that
‘round these parts
Some loves are lost on bad journeys
at fate’s dark storming voice
But then love dies sometimes merely by a man’s choice
Everyone
knows by now that she
waits for what
will never come
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