Tears in her eyes
Puddles in a funnel of wrinkles
She fingers her golden ring
Isn’t it nice to miss someone?
She says for the fourth time in five minutes
It’d be awful to go through life with someone
And not miss them when they’re gone
It’s awful nice to miss someone.
But the absence
Is the same as death
And she is a broken clock
The only two tracks left
Are you having any pain my dear?
Her hands to her stomach
I don’t like to gripe…
I’ve had such a blessed life, ya know
Tiny sparkles in her eyes
Have I told you about my husband?