With hair that's snowy white,
and eyes grown dim.
The lady looks to see if her love
of yesteryear
Is walking down the lane
For scattered showers are
forecast, and he is slightly lame.
He stoops a little as he walks,
And thinks of his love of yesteryear
who sits by the window, waiting.
While slowly he walks home,
he knows his love will meet him
at the door, and greet him
with a smile.
Then hand in hand they'll wander
down the lane.
And think of the laughter, tears, and
the pain.
Of when they were
young again.
And of all that's come and gone,
and passed down memory lane.