Joanne, Joanne,

always one for a dance - in the kitchen,

in the living room,

barefooted -

on the patio,

when the sun was out.



Joanne, Joanne, she sang

like a bird in the evening -

with the television on,

a hairbrush, for a microphone,

echoes of Opera and old time stage shows,

she danced through the house

in all her best clothes.



Joanne, Joanne, she used to paint canvases

of light blues and yellows

like Van Gogh’s famous sunflowers.

Stored up in the attic,

she brought them down,

for bohemian visitors,

Joanne, Joanne.



Joanne, Joanne -

all her dreams, for her children-

her trials and tribulations -

eating prawn salad,

alone in the lounge.

Joanne, Joanne.

Copyright Suzy Davies 03/15/2016. All Rights Reserved.