Soft floating snowflakes
Strike her wrinkled face
She waits there every night
In her tattered lace
He promised her a wedding
That never did take place
And her thoughts reflect the silver birch
And the tiny church
She thinks he's coming back
But she knows he won't
The porter tries to help
He offers her his coat
So many years
Have since long pa**ed
Since he went away
And her thoughts reflect the silver birch
And the tiny church
Her daughter comes along
And takes her by the hand
She lives the kind of life
Her mother always planned
She takes her to the carved initials
On the silver birch
And she stands alone just like the birch
Near the tiny church