In a warm July when the trees are still,
and the breeze has lost all its winter chill.
I dream, and I dream of my first love’s face,
of her summer smile and her warm embrace.
I dream her to life, though she’s long since flown,
and my dream girl’s changed; from a girl she’s grown.
Yet love pining pain in my heart she broke
still bites, and it claws when her name is spoke.