Across the village green
Beneath the cloud-capped hills
He waved his hand
So full of love and tenderness
He smiled his smile
Years of calm and contentedness
She returned his smile
And thought of wasted opportunities
Between the wars
She could have staked a claim
The life they lived
The stuff of dreams
Across the village green
Beneath the cloud-capped hills
He swept back his hair
From his sun-blessed brow
He held his head
Aloft, proud, not loud
She would have swept her fingers
Through his golden locks
She would have squeezed his hand
Beneath the old church clock
The life they lived
Or so it seems
Across the path of time
It was the stuff of dreams
He walked down along the roses
Between the green and the public house
He licked his lips
Frothy beer, dominoes
A real conversational hub
She would have missed his company
Left at home, alone
She would have tried not to nag
Or wasted Sunday dinners
He rolled out under the moonlight
Unsteady on his feet
He blessed his life
And forgot he had a sweetheart
She thanked her lucky stars
She had not been subservient
She would have loved him dear
To her it was so clear
The life they lived
Grew further apart
The stuff of dreams
In the head, also in the heart
They walked, they talked
Wondering why
Beginning to cry
Their life to revive once again
