I pick dandelions
In the early spring
When I think of you
\"She loves me . . . \"
I cut the rose blooms
In the summer morn
And I am pricked
By the remembrance of you
I walk in the autumn golds
As I shuffle with the agony
Of the memory
Yes I do
Now in my winter\'s demise
I wrap the cloth of your smile
Around the cold heart\'s desire
That I once had for you
There will be no dandelions
This spring
No roses this summer
No leaves with autumn\'s colors
Without the smile of you