John Lennon’s widow wrote to me for therapy to overcome her tragic loss. I replied:
‘Sometime in New York City, Borrowed Time
Dear Prudence – Aisumasen (I’m sorry), Dear Yoko,
Good morning, good morning. Yes it is Good day Sunshine, Hello Little Girl, from me to you. Bless you, You are here! Forgive me (my little flower Princess) I imagine out the blue it’s so hard you’re crippled inside isolation. Nobody loves you when you’re down and out, not even Her Majesty, so stand by me and carry that weight. Oh Yoko! God! Oh my love, how do you sleep? How? Whatever gets you through the night? Do you twist and shout, Scared? Do you want to know a secret I want to tell you, woman? Remember I'm stepping out cos there’s a place to cry, baby, cry – yah yah – while my guitar gently weeps too, wtaching the wheels. Think for yourself, for no one else within or without you, of cold turkey. I found out - nobody told me - it’s easy if you try, yeah yeah yeah! No beef jerky, savoy truffle, honey pie (even wild honey pie) and it’s just like starting over free as a bird, because, girl, all you need is love so we all shine on. Just give me some truth!
Well, well, well, this’ll please please me and please Mr Postman, who doesn’t mind games, and I don’t mean Mr Mustard, just a jealous guy. I'm losing you so Goodnight. I don't know why you say hello. I say goodbye.
Real love, love love love,
Doctor Robert
Yesterday
Strawberry fields back in the USSR to New York City’s Attica State, via Penny Lane (Meat City)
The End.
PS I love you… Here comes the son, so love you too as you come together, Mother’s beautful boy (darling boy). She loves you. Love me do, this boy, just because I’m mother nature’s son and my mummy’s dead.’
No reply.
Edited by user 20 March 2020 03:25:47(UTC)
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