I have a mantra. It goes like this: “My good man is near my good man is near my good man is near”. It popped into my head a few years ago when I was mourning the demise of my last love. He’s not dead, my last love. Oh, no. He’s very much alive and enjoying the enviable life of an older man married to a much younger woman, while I occasionally weep into a glass of Savignon Blanc, recalling the times we toasted each other with the same lovely wine after particularly creative evenings we shared.
Lovely