Some days are diamonds, some days are stone

                         



                                 November 61

Through the lamplight she is walking through the mist and frosty night, I was young and full of yearning for the first love of my life.
In the dark up by the old bridge oh so close and face to face. As the mist enfolds us peacefully this milieu our secret place.
Were young and for the first time saw our childhood was no more, gone for ever in that first time oh so soft we close that door.