(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Those Three Little Words

There are three little words
that did not emerge
when the crisis arrived
like a flock of black birds,
though that morning heard a vocabulary
of thousands of meaningless bits
as she went down the stairs I only whispered 'Mary'
but she left for a new world, of glamour and glitz.
She was tired of mucking the cowbarn and more,
was no farmer, this girl, born and bred in the city
I am sure that I was, to her, just a big bore
now I lost my best worker, which is a great pity.

Well, today I have come to the simple conclusion
that she would have, I could have, we should have stayed close,
if I had at the time known that utter illusion
is to love like lifeblood and the reason she chose
to just walk out that day and never turn back,
is the lack of the wisdom contained in my head
as they sat on my tongue as I watched Mary pack
and those three little words, they were never said.

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