The phone

 

 

I stand unmoved beside the phone,
Its silence cuts me to the bone.
I wait and hope without a sound,
To kiss your voice when it comes 'round.

The seconds drip like melting wax,
The moonlight knocks upon the pane,
The rose begins to fade to black,
And still, the phone stays cold and plain.

I gaze upon its lifeless frame,
Wishing it would speak your name.
But I rise up, and walk away—
It will not ring for me today.

23.03.1995
12:45