Three Years

Three years, fulfilling the third carriage fantasies.
Never knowing if she's coming or going.
Becoming a star in a middle age dream,
a voice on the 'phone,
or a face in the stream.

She's Marilyn Monroe
to the business man from Tring,
and every Tuesday evening
a schoolgirl on a swing.

She's only twenty two
going on fifty one.
Her face keeps coming undone.

These three years have been hell.
She can't tell her Mum or Dad,
they'd be sad.

And where
will it end?

Another three years?



Capability Red            aprox 1974