Villanelle for someone ill

Both of us spend time alone
I hate the phrase 'it is god's will'
your voice grows distant on the phone

Your front room carpet seeps into the dialling tone
and there'll be silences to fill
both of us spend time alone

We talk about the storm last week, nice but annoying people we have
known
and there's some workmen with a drill
your voice grows distant on the phone

I've never really heard you moan
but one day soon I probably will
both of us spend time alone

It's safe to say the bird has flown
I hear the cage door swinging still
your voice grows distant on the phone

I'll catch the number thirty one
and lump my lovely body and some freesias up the hill
both of us spend time alone
your voice grows distant on the phone