She's never read my poems

She has gone away
But it's ok
Tomorrow is another day

I was a fool
But now it's cool
She sends me postcards every day

But for me the hardest part is knowing
That she's never ever read my poems

I was her clown
I made her smile
She clapped her hands and I fell down

But she is still my friend
And that won't end
I phone her every other day

But for me the hardest part is knowing
That she's never ever read my poems

I took a word or two from Byron
A line or two form Keats
A smattering of Shelley and put my name underneath
She'll never know

I'm sending them today
I don't know what she'll say
She'll probably laugh and throw them all away

But I didn't like them anyway