It was bright and breezy on a Sunday ‘noon, they strolled in hand in hand,
the smiles on their faces and the depth in their eyes, as if everything was unplanned,
It was warm and sunny on a Sunday ‘noon, and she followed him inside,
the wrinkles by her brows and the curve in his smile, he looked at her and sighed,
It was dry and crispy on a Sunday ‘noon, and he pushed her in her chair,
the colour of her skin was oh so pale, and the grey shade of her hair,
It was cold and frosty on a Sunday ‘noon, he wandered in alone,
the sadness in his face was harrowing, where was the woman he once had known?
Seasons come, seasons go, but love will never die,
There’s a first love and a last love,
But for some it’s harder to say goodbye.