As soon as his last friend had gone,

He felt, for the first time, alone,

With no one to make sense of life,

Nobody to call on the phone.

 

When he called out in need of help,

Or roared like a lion in pain,

Who would be there to listen now?

Who would ever listen again?

 

The service had been a comfort,

The vicar was well up to speed,

But the empty chair by his side

Was the one thing he did not need.

 

At the end, for the sake of pride,

He fought to hold back the first tear:

Though his efforts hardly mattered;

His soul mate was no longer here.