My fingers held a cigar every minute of the day,
I never had a word to say to you,
I wish I could go back and do..
That little thing you asked me to.
I'd buy the things you want, I'd kiss you and cook
But when you'd bring your picture book
and asked me please to share your fun...
With a cigerette in my hand, I'd say:"A little later, hun".
I'd tuck you in safe at mid-night,
and sing your favorite lullabies, turn out the light
I tiptoe softly to the door...
Just to smoke one more,
Now I wish I'd quit and stayed a minute more.
For the time goes fast,
And the years rush past...
No longer is she at your side...
her childish fears to confide.
The picture books are put away,
there is no longer romance to share,
no good-night kiss, no confessions said...
That all belongs to yesterdecade...
My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill...
I wish I could go back and do...
That little thing you asked me to.
YOU ARE READING
To My Long Gone Girl
PoetryAn old man writes to his beloved wife. He wishes he had quit smoking on her request. He kept procrastinating and now she is no more.
