There Is A Vine

There is a vine growing on my garden wall
And it is brown and withered in the fall
And in the spring, its leaves are green and blossoms all aflame
But spring or fall, still I love you just the same

There is a gate halfway down my garden wall
And in the night, I lock it, bolts and all
And in the day, it's open wide to all who would come through
But day or night, it is never locked for you

There is a tree growing by my garden gate
And year by year it seems to stand and wait
And here am I, beneath the tree, for I am waiting too
And oh, my love, I will always wait for you