Will you come to me in the snow,
my love,
when the ground is barren...
white?
Will you stay with me...
right next to me...
through the long cold winter night?
Will you come to me in the spring,
my love,
when trees begin to green?
When robins sing and flowers bloom
with winter a passing dream?
Will you come to me in the sun,
my love,
in the warmth of a summer day?
Will I look out my door...
you'll be there once more...
and this loneliness will pass away?
Will you come in light
of the October moon?
Will you come to me in the fall?
But the mystery I'd say
of our first time that May
is that you came...
to me...
at all.