There's A letter sitting
On my kitchen table-
It's Her-
She's been
Thinking about me-
She's sitting across
The Atlantic
In her flat in London-
She must be
Lonely reaching
Out to me-
It does rain
A lot there-
She must be in need-
She's on a
Melancholy-
Merry-Go-Round-
But I won't
Open the letter-
No, I won't reply-
I'll open it
When I'm
An old man-
When I can't move-
When I'm falling apart-
When I'm too weak-
I'll say to myself,
'Boy, I'm sure Glad that was just a Dream-
Who wants Anything Eternally? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem