The telegram came with a knock at the door
Some fifty years now, fifty and more,
The telegram came to the widow of war;
Shadows grow long, memory poor.

A photograph stands by the mantle-piece clock,
A young soldier stands on a ship at the dock,
He smiles as he fades as she waves with a smile
They walk arm in arm down the aisle.

The telegram came with a knock at the door
Some fifty years now, fifty and more,
The telegram came to the widow of war;
Shadows grow long, memory poor.

War took a fortune, Time took its toll,
And the long summers lost have returned
To the world of a child and the mind of a girl
As she places her hand in your hand.

Shadows grow long, memory poor.

© Ivor & Kevan Bundell 2006