The Strand
What is this strand of hair I find
So long and fair on your lapel,
Its colour neither yours nor mine,
Where did this strand of hair come from
do tell?
What perfume is it I detect
When, doing the laundry, I smell
The scarf you wore around your neck
Last night? Whose scent could that be dear,
do tell?
What shadow flits across your brow
Each time you hear St Margaret’s bells
Ring out. ‘Twas there we shared our vows,
Why do you look so sad?
When travelling on your business trips
In whose arms at night do you dwell?
Whose name is that upon your lips
While dreaming? It’s not mine,
I can tell.
What is this hairpin that I find
Under the pillow where it fell
I wonder have I been so blind
But if I ask whose is it,
will you tell?
What‘s this receipt found in your trouser
Pocket, for the Strand hotel?
That night you worked so late, but now
The fear you lied is a fear
I cannot quell.
Those emails you swiftly delete
Are tolling out our love’s death knell
But as you sow so shall you reap
Tomorrow, dear, maybe farewell
What will you think if you return
And find me packed and gone, do tell,
Relief or shame? Regret or hurt?
For my part, I just think,
“Go to hell!”
What is this strand of hair I find
So long and fair on your lapel,
Its colour neither yours nor mine,
Where did this strand of hair come from
do tell?
When travelling on your business trips
In whose arms at night do you dwell?
Whose name is that upon your lips
While dreaming? It’s not mine,
I can tell.
Those emails you swiftly delete
Are tolling out our love’s death knell
But as you sow so shall you reap
Tomorrow, dear, I’ll bid farewell
What will you think when you return
And find me packed and gone, do tell,
Relief or shame? Regret or hurt?
For my part, I just think,
“Go to hell!”