Good-bye...
true friends we part,
is it not so?
Yet perhaps someday
a whispered word,
a ballad chanted low
as twilight gathers gray,
the soft touch of a hand,
will bring you back to me.
You will remember
my look,
my voice,
this evening of November
and you will understand.
Then as shadows from these eyes...
these eyes that are so blind,
will you not give me,
recollecting all,
one tender thought and kind?
And now I leave you
trusting my secrets
to the years.
I leave you
silent and satisfied.
