A subtle dissection of a shared history:
Some days you wander the streets by the docks,
hoping to find that face you have lost,
The river flows on endlessly,
miles and miles of dirty Mersey,
timeless in its trajectory.
You were made to wait, you were made to be free,
You never knew what you could be,
But silence is the sound you now make.
Too wrapped up in your own heartbreak.
For He has come and gone, and left you dry,
A mere swallow in your bright summer sky,
His eyes are in your dreams, piercing your thoughts like shiny pins,
popping through lazily as you sleep at home after drinking alone...
Tonight as we watch, the band play on,
I don't know the words and you don't know the song,
Your heart may be broken
but somehow we manage to keep singing along...
By Jane Neason Bellis