There's a sense of longing in me As I read Rosemary's letter Her writing's honest Can't forget the years she's lost In isolation She talks about her love And as I read "I'll die alone" I know she was aching There's a certain detail seen here
The pen must have slipped to the side And left a stain Next to his name She knew he was gone And isolation Is all that would remain "The wound in me is pouring out To rest on a lover's shore"