Written by: Keith Bickerstaffe

Elm trees shed their trembling leaves, 
the scorch of daylight dies, and evening drips 
in pools of reddish hue as I bereave                                                                               
the absence of my heart's desire.

Happiness, a blessing I may never feel again
is slipping from my memory, as distant as the moon;
'neath sunlit skies I roam for miles to look for rain
in search of solace, for my spirit's sorely hewn.

Her gleaming beauty doth illuminate the night, 
sets flares to shame, outshines the blushing rose!
I'd trade my wealth, halt the oceans in their flight 
if only she'd forgive me, put an end to all my woes.