Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Phone Call

You heard the familiar ring
that seemed to announce his call,

closed your eyes when you heard his voice
speaking words from
love poems that were never written

A cadence with pauses
as natural as the the silent moments
between the rhythm of a beating heart,

Verses of the freest kind

In which everything
meant I love you I
love you I love
you I love you I love you
I love
you I love you,

as it always has.

Your hands held a cup filled
with warm sweet coffee,

and then in one sip
you drank the afternoon itself.

1 comment:

Ergo said...

What a beautifully written poem! Very good technique, well-crafted, so lovely. I love it I love I love it! :)