Between the love and letters
some life still got through.
All I have to thank today
is that those letters came from you.

My perfect hue, my sterling cue
to sing above the chorus.
The audience just roars;
the empty man is options.

It used to be we'd always say
how love would all turn out the same.
Your skies got smarter,
I got brave;
I gave the clouds a life to save.

And now I write your name
in petrified, pitched stanzas.
I got all of the questions right
but never found an answer.

What did you do upon
those haunted Melbourne streets
where you stitched on
the sneer veneer of happy fear
and the willing grace to let it on.

Tres bon PP..Tres bon...