now it's gone, nothing but a thong, think it's a country song

awaiting a musical score...

a beige skirt on an open field
those long days of living
wondering and forgetting, never giving
knocks on Sundays; deal never sealed

years of coffee, standin’ out back
finding middle ground
those days he came ‘round
but baby won’t do flat pack

dinner at gaps and quiet visits
a left open question
hanging and wanting, our obsession
left at home; show with my tickets

years of coffee, standin’ out back
finding middle ground
those days he came ‘round
but baby won’t do flat pack

the end comes and across the floor
a sudden final grab
standing and waiting, a final stab
from my life; off forever more

time away over such distance
the short line extinct
too far away, we always blinked
nothing to help; a lonely existence

years of coffee, standin’ out back
finding middle ground
those days he came ‘round
but baby won’t do flat pack

reno and london shows and parks
the long miles erased
pulled to the stairs, once embraced
finally we solved; and lit the sparks

no staring at shoes, no wonder out back
together on holy ground
these days he comes around
but still, my baby won’t do flat pack