You don't mention whom you met,
How you ripped your small black dress.
You don't share intimate stories;
What caused a smile,
What stokes your worries.
Arms dangle by your side,
You can't slip your hand in mine,
Hold me with your eyes,
Lay your head on my bed
With your good-night sigh.
We don't get our get-aways
As we did in by-gone days;
You left your keys to house and car,
Saying you would travel far;
So you hitched your hidden dreams
To a rising star,
Left my world, but not my life,
Polished your new cultured pearls.
Husbands now call you wives;
But you'll always be
My three wee girls.