I wave you off down the ill-treated road
your Volvo bouncing in the potholes
left behind after last Christmas's frost
I smile at you in your wing-mirror
the tears streaming down my Wednesday morning face
you keep your eyes on the road

We'll see each other in a week's time
every day without you feels like a lifetime of torture
but at least I'll see you

A week on Wednesday

Your Volvo reappears on the potholed horizon
the rare northern sunshine
streams through your equally golden hair
your face so painfully similar
with the news of a week

Another Wednesday comes and goes
and then the fifth arrives

I'm stood in the doorway with my Wednesday morning face
the potholes are there just the same
but the sun is hiding behind the ominous cloud
throughout that Wednesday I waited for you
but your Volvo never showed.