I use my whiskey glass as a walkie-talkie,

She uses her wine glass as a mobile phone.

Sound waves conceal the wise disc jockey,

She said she wants to sleep alone.

Slouched on the worn out brown chair,

The radio host plays a sad song.

Loose tie and messed hair,

Trying to find where I belong.

She said she would never leave me,

But mistakes have been made.

I miss your warm soft hands,

And all of our future plans.

Through the sound of a wind chime,

I will remember you for a lifetime.