Messages Much Missed ( parody of Thomas Hardy's The Voice)

Oh, how I miss you, texting me, texting me.
My phone now lies silent and dead.
You were my everything, all to me, all to me,
as from the very first day that we met.

I gaze at your photo, standing here next to me,
taken in town at our favourite spot,
where you would always wait for me, wait for me.
How cool you look in jeans and white top.

I'm reading your messages over and over,
dreaming that you're here by my side.
Perhaps I should delete them, delete them.
But without them how will I survive?

So, here I am
barely coping,
birds around
me singing,
'Flesh perishes,
and life goes on.'
But not your texting.

Shirley Elmokadem