(Mary Chapin Carpenter)
Every night she sleeps alone
And by her bed she puts the phone
And every morning after that
She takes the phone and puts it back
He's got a wife back home and three kids up and grown
But these are things that go unsaid
He might call her from the road just in time to say hello
And goodbye again
She keeps his picture tucked away
She thinks she'll have it framed one day
And maybe he'll come see it there
Hanging by her rocking chair