He had searched for ten long years, always hopeful of finding the reason,
The reason she’d been taken from him, the reason he always felt so alone.
Till one day he came to realise that the memory of the feelings he’d had
Were far far better and happier than anything he could possibly hope to find.
He stopped looking, he got on with his life, he no longer searched for a memory,
He went about life with a new and fresh look, he’d survived, and now he’d be alright.
The hole was still there, but for now at least, it was shored up, and he was functioning.
We can hope for more, we can beg for more. We’re lucky when that ‘more’ happens.