E) Same Sense-Talking Woman

Dedicated to Marian Mawson who left us 1st November 2001
A little bit more than a mother
A little bit more than a friend.

Hey woman! Why are you crying?
There's no point being angry or bitter it won't do any good.
Who do you want to hit out at? Me for leaving, or IT for taking?
Either way you'll only be beating yourself.
I'm still here you know, clear as a bell on modern FM
I've just nipped outside for a fag.
You are still shouting 'Good Buddy', on AM,
Twiddle your dial and you'll find me again.
Crackly mind, and different, but still there.
I'm still me, still locked into nineteen seventies fashion
Polyester flowers nine inch across, and long pink socks
And you are still you, opinionated and headstrong
Not knowing what is best for you. Not trusting in home.
Still playing your nomad games
Whatever I was to you before, so I am still.
Still a little bit more than a friend
A little bit more than a Mother
And you are still my little girl.
That's what I always told people.
We are still what we were to each other.
Call me a difficult bugger, the way you always did
There was a time when you were the only one who said it to my
face
I won't let you change.
If Woe says she's you, then she's lying.
Woe is neither you nor me, she belongs somewhere else.
Talk to me in the way you always have about children, and troubles, and
sex.
Don't change your tone because your senses can no longer find me.
Don't think I am no longer interested in mortal things
Talk to me and I will listen, and I will laugh and I will cry.
I will hear you know, so talk to me.
What is death but a foregone inevitability?
How then can you act so shocked.
I've only ended a chapter
When you're ready to turn the page I continue on.
I'll wait for you in my version of tomorrow
Think of me often
Because I'm not sitting beside you, doesn't mean that we can't have
coffee.
And a chocolate biscuit too if we fancy.
I am well now
Waiting for you
But please don't rush to join me
I'm not going anywhere
While you are in the bakers, I am at the florist.
While you are in the bank, I'm queuing for stamps.
See not far from you doing my thing as I always did
In the next street, across that field
I am at the other side of the stream, waving madly
If the sun were not so blinding you'd see me
And wave back
Wave to me anyway
Splash me if you like
You would have done yesterday
I won't let you change
But there is something I must tell you
Something you have to understand
If you listen to nothing else, hear this.
Trust me as you always have
And believe me when I say
IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT