It’s too late now:
I can’t get him back,
reach out my royal arm,
keep him from harm
stop the Land Rover,
order a rethink
There is no-one beside me
– no nudge, no wink –
just practitioners of sorrow
out front, too visible,
no tomorrow
I wear a mask and sit alone:
no laughter in the night
no rolling stone
Was there something I should have done?
Escaped to Greece or Denmark,
Corfu in the sun
or rain?
Dug deep, started again?
No, it’s too late now:
black suits, black wheels,
no-one to tell me how he feels,
no witty, careless remark
Just dark