It isn't the thing you do, dear
It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
at the setting of the sun.
It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
at the setting of the sun.
The tender word forgotten,
the letter you did not write,
the flower you might have sent, dear
are you haunting ghosts tonight?
the letter you did not write,
the flower you might have sent, dear
are you haunting ghosts tonight?
by: Margareth E. Sangster
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