I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here. <br />I wish you sat on the sofa <br />and I sat near. <br />the handkerchief could be yours, <br />the tear could be mine, chin-bound. <br />Though it could be, of course, <br />the other way around. <br /> <br />I wish you were here, dear, <br />I wish you were here. <br />I wish we were in my car, <br />and you'd shift the gear. <br />we'd find ourselves elsewhere, <br />on an unknown shore. <br />Or else we'd repair <br />To where we've been before. <br /> <br />I wish you were here, dear, <br />I wish you were here. <br />I wish I knew no astronomy <br />when stars appear, <br />when the moon skims the water <br />that sighs and shifts in its slumber. <br /> I wish it were still a quarter <br />to dial your number. <br /> <br />I wish you were here, dear, <br />in this hemisphere, <br />as I sit on the porch <br />sipping a beer. <br />It's evening, the sun is setting; <br />boys shout and gulls are crying. <br />What's the point of forgetting <br />If it's followed by dying?<br /><br />Joseph Brodsky<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-3/
