Sunday, 28 April 2013

(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

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)

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