By Stephen Roach, living with PH
Joanna’s been gone two years and a half,
It has been so long since I heard her laugh.
“Any chance of a coffee?” as I sit down.
I’d say “You were sleeping!”, she’d say “calm down”.
There’s now empty space, where her bed once stood.
I would turn back time if only I could.
We can all dream can’t we? It does no harm.
It serves a purpose and it keeps me calm.
It’s a forlorn wish, that’s my conclusion.
A patent truth, no need for confusion.
I’m left with a living room short of life,
A broken heart, more money, but no wife.
I miss her so much.
