Once In a Willow Grove

I can't see the fading clock but I hear those mournful chimes, Been echoing through my heart from the most ancient of times. I can sense that she's standing on some distant foreign shore, Wond'ring if I think of her like I had done once before. Her hair's waiving in the breeze while her eyes are set alight, Younger than the years gone by since I saw her on that night. It was from a willow grove under silence of the moon, She walked on another path; left a broken heart to swoon. Were blossoms on the mountain and white roses on a grave, The photographs once cherished are but fantasies ill saved. I see floods in the valleys, I walk through mem'ries ablaze, Yet the times keep on moving into soon forgotten days. The hands of a clock still turn in the whispers of the breeze, All the thoughts that have passed by can still bring me to my knees. A willow grove waits no more for the ones been left behind, Still she stands upon the shore; a broken heart drifts through time.