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  • JOHN WORSLEY SIMPSON

What Is Left of Life?

What is left of life

When the love that you lived for

Is gone?

When the person who was half of you Will no longer be by your side

On the long road, on the meandering garden path,

On a wondering wander through the autumn leaves

On the theatre seat beside you

Sharing a symphony or a lilting ballad

Or a blood-red sunset over shining water?

Or a petty argument?

Damn all the arguments you had,

All those wasted moments

If only you could have collected them, saved them

And now played them back with accord instead of petulance

How much longer together would that have given you?

What is left of life

When you speak in the dark

And no one answers, and no one will ever answer again?

When half your bed

Lies cold and unruffled?

When you no longer have the quiet confidence that the person who left Will always be coming back, in a few minutes, in an hour or so, or a day?

What is left of life when you realize

The unquestioned knowledge That you would always be together

Has been just a wishful fantasy?

And now the dream is shreds of cloud

Blowing and vanishing in the wind

And in despair you come to face the cruellest fact That you can’t go back

And do it all again

And do it on and on and on

Without end,

On and on

Always and Forever

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