Under an oak tree I sit
with you in summer...
I would be wiping your
tears, laying beside you...
I sit around and wonder,
and watch the days go by...
Walking, leaves crunching under my feet.
This road has lead Me to hell and back...
Yesterday you missed me,
but today I miss you, I am...
How can you say he loves you?
When making you cry is all he can do...
If this is where we are,
Falling asleep as languid lovers...
Slowly letting go of the pain
washing past's stain...
Sound pulsing inside my mind,
Noises, images, colours, voices...
Sick--
of you, of me...
You were daddy's little girl
who would climb my back...
Now,one evening,two months after
Am still dead beat and without laughter...