Is only ever really artificial
Yet it feels as though you have been so very far away

How I make my calendar where the days run backwards
So I can count the childish sleeps until I see you again
Your hand moving from mine; nostalgic

For a time that maybe never existed
As we do our Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard act
On a platform that should have contained only us

There are other people in the world but you
(or so they say)
I say; I’d sooner not think about them.

Amy Britton