When I think of you alone in your bedroom,
chilly evening light, white walls, quiet air,
picking out sad sweet songs on a black guitar -

I don't wish any more that I was there with you -
all our stories together have come to their ends.
But I wish for the bedroom not to be empty -

for your face to be alive with a smile -
singing to be heard, playing to be seen,
someone's eyes full of the sight of you.