I found her footmark in the snow;
Though there were many, I would know
My lover’s imprint anywhere,
And where she wanders, I would go.
Beneath the birches winter-bare,
I walk alone. The clouding air
Is silent; birds are heard no more
Along the path we used to share.
And soon that single sign I saw
Will be erased; now comes the thaw.
That final trace will disappear
When Spring reclaims the forest floor.
But I will seek her, far and near
Through every season of the year.
For what is life when she’s not here?
It is no life when she’s not here.
Gonecycling (again) 
What a delightful poem to read this Monday morning…almost make me miss snow…almost.
As you’ll know by now, I’m not a big fan of the white stuff myself, but occasionally it redeems itself with an idea like this! Thanks for your comment, Charles. N.
You are an unreconstructed romantic Nick. 🙂
I love this
David
Guilty as charged! 🙂 Thank you, David.
Nick,
This made me swoon – that’s all I have to say on the matter! 🙂 🙂
Christine x
I’m an old softie really! N.x
🙂 🙂 x
What a romantic, old fashioned, well fashioned love poem. Romance is in the air, and I am smiling, and I am smiling.
And I’m smiling too now! This is an unashamedly romantic piece; I wanted to give it the feel of an old folk song, the kind a jolly country swain might sing about his fair pretty maid, so I’m delighted to have it described as ‘old-fashioned’ – and ‘well-fashioned’ is always a great compliment – thank you! N.
Hi Nick
This is lovely, and sooo romantic 🙂
I am trying to catch up with your poems, and I am enjoying them!
Ina x
I’m an old romantic at heart, Ina (despite what my wife might tell you!)
Actually, this is about her; she was only in London for the afternoon, but – well, you know how it is.
N.x