Every November

They danced a waltz in the village hall,

His kitbag waiting by the wall,

He held her close as the band played slow,

Said, "Darling, it's time for me to go."

The telegram came with the April rain,

And her world was never quite the same,

She dried her eyes and she found her feet,

And she made him a promise she'd always keep.

Every November,

she writes him a line,

"Still loving you, darling,

and doing just fine,"

She lays it with poppies beneath his name

— Every November, she loves him the same.

She raised their boy with his father's grin,

His laugh, his eyes and his stubborn chin,

He wore that medal on his wedding day When the band struck

up

their waltz to play,

She saw his dad in the way he stood,

Said, "Lord, he'd be proud

— I know he would."

And she never once took another's hand — Some love's too big

to understand.

Every November, she writes him a line,

"Still loving you, darling,

and doing just fine,"

She lays it with poppies beneath his name

— Every November, she loves him the same.

Her hair turned silver,

her steps grew slow,

I held her hand down that road we'd go,

I asked her, "Nana,

who's the letter for?"

She said, "The boy who danced with me before the war." This

year her chair by the fire is bare,

But I walked that road,

'cause she'd want me there.

Every November,

I write him a line,

"She's with you now,

Grandad — she's doing just fine,"

I lay it with poppies beneath his name

— Every November, they're dancing

again.

Every November... We will remember.