A Song

I wish you were here, dear,

I wish you were here.

I wish you sat on the sofa

and I sat near.

The handkerchief could be yours,

the tear could be mine, chin-bound.

Though it could be, of course,

the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,

I wish you were here.

I wish we were in my car

and you'd shift the gear.

We'd find ourselves elsewhere,

on an unknown shore.

Or else we'd repair

to where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear,

I wish you were here.

I wish I knew no astronomy

when stars appear,

when the moon skims the water

that sighs and shifts in its slumber.

I wish it were still a quarter

to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,

in this hemisphere,

as I sit on the porch

sipping a beer.

It's evening, the sun is setting;

boys shout and gulls are crying.

What's the point of forgetting

if it's followed by dying?