I spent last night, here, crying-
But then..what else is new?
Itís surely not the first or last...
Spent crying over you.
To place the fault, to fix the blame
What difference does it make?
When after more than twenty years,
We each, departures take.
Feelings? I can not explain-
The emptiness inside..
Call it numbness, maybe pain?
Anger, maybe thereís a bit-
But mostly at myself.
It seems I took those tender things
And placed them on a shelf.
Where they grew dry, from my neglect-
They withered and they died.
And could not be brought back to life,
No matter how we tried.
So ..cry on, fool. It will not help-
Nor any solace offer-
Nor can the best advice of friends
Which they so freely proffer.