(Day 28) Aborted Phone Call

I ring you in the usual way

But you drop the phone

When you hear my voice

Leaving me with nothing

But the droning ambience

Of an aborted call.

Perhaps you are still in bed

After a late, late night

I had forgotten you mentioning

You were going on drinking wine

And couldn’t be bothered

Staggering out of bed to

Answer the phone

Or maybe your cat

Has instead of missing

The dressing table

After jumping from your bed

Has jumped over the suite

Onto the window

And knocked the phone flying.

Perhaps it was a BT error

Or you are on the phone

To your mate, Steve

For one of your epic three hour calls

Which frequently has me thinking

What the hell you could talk about

For so long

And is meant to feel minor

When Steve says he sometimes

Talk to one of your ex’s all night long

Sometimes,

Or maybe your are rushing off

To the shop across the road

To pay your lottery ticket

Before rushing off to the doctors

Or Asda up the road before it closes

And couldn’t be bothered

Answering my call

At least then.

Either way it still hasn’t

Clouded my love for you.

(Day 28 was a true story from a day or two before
but is a nice poem for my other half, Cathy)