The lady was sat in her old rocking chair,
As her shawl draped her shoulders, that caressed her grey hair.
With the glow from the fireplace, dried logs crackling sound,
A storm raging outside, beating down on the ground.
With the rain on the windows so hard for to see,
Her garden she cared for, her big apple tree.
That body so tired now, someone else does the deeds,
Seeing and caring to all of her needs.
She picks up a picture that's placed by her side,
Of a young man in uniform standing next to his bride.
How sweet are the memories of this happy pair,
The way they are smiling, not having a care.
Although long ago now, the time has flown by,
When she thinks of this young man, she tries not to cry.
Her memories still strong of the last time they met,
In the garden that summer, thought their future was set.
They carved their initials on the big apple tree,
Still as clear to this day for all people to see.
This old lady waits patiently, knowing one day,
Her handsome young husband will come home for to stay.
