Too Late

 

She waits                     he dawdles

She prays                      he plays

Alone she sits to watch the clock

To be with him is al she wants

Can’t breath with out, togetherness she yearns

Her luxury is to be with him, her

Greatest desire to be with him

 

Silence, time to think working hard

I’ll lake a break what’s the harm

A game, a smoke, I’ll call a friend

 

He laughs, he jokes, he works, he plays

She cries, she waits, she sits another day

 

But wait, what’s this, I miss my wife

I think I’ll stop and go home this night.

And there he goes to have his way

To him his wife is just for play

 

There for him when he needs, but what of she

 

I’m home he cries

But home is empty, the bride is gone

She sat to long, no more does she sit

He sighs, but wait, what’s this, I miss my wife

 

 

BY: Anthony Mignone