Yours is the love I love most

But we’re nothing more than almost

And your hand was not mine to hold.

Yours is the love I love most

But you are no more in my dreams.

Night after night after night it seems

My bed is empty, bitter cold

Colder than northern streams.

Yours is the love I love most

But you are a memory, a ghost; 

A lover I can no more hold;

Thus our story ends at almost