Lifeline
After daylight falls down
and room light comes up
I become transfixed by it,
perhaps obsessed with it.
Such a slender wire
bending to Newton’s gravity
in its own special way.
Frequently swaying
and stretching
when I try to force it
into action –
to no avail.
But, for now, during the evening
and twilight hours
it’s all I have
to reach you with
touch you with
and say “I love you” with.
A complex instrument of Man,
a wonderful gift from God,
a Telephone – our Lifeline.
It reflects my stare
countless times a day.
It feels my hand
often at night.
I gingerly pick it up
hoping to hear your voice,
instead a single,
lonely tone rushes through.
Sometimes the sound seems
different than it is
and I imagine hearing pale pleadings
for “Help” from you.
Other times I fantasize
the tone to be saying,
“I love you,”
as clearly as from your own lips.
It’s only after the phone actually rings
and I pounce on it
like a big jungle cat,
that I can regain my composure
and let you pull me
out of the twilight zone
I too often place myself
within.
Hearing your voice
for those few precious minutes
each evening of the week
cools my nerves
and soothes my quivering heart
for yet another day to come
when again I’ll be reaching
for the Lifeline.
6/29/86
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