Remote Love

Sitting in her armchair, remote control in hand

She changes channel frequently, sometimes switching to on demand.

If only life was like that, the TV menu list

She'd go back to her recordings on screen

And redo her favourites with flick of the wrist.

For she remembers all the bad plays

The kitchen sink dramas of old

If she could rewrite the scripts

To bring him back wrapped up in the family fold.

She could point the remote right at his old chair

Stuck in the corner of the room bare.

Press replay and hear his voice wax and wane

Singing "I Love You So" once again.

But the remote and her memories are all that are left

Of 72 years of colour, black and white.

But they stuck together through thick and thin

All the romance, thrillers and dramas heartfelt from within.