A Simple phonecall

A Poem

Chris Noonan

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Photo by Miha Rekar on Unsplash

When will the phone ring
Early in the morning
Or late at night?
Will it be her voice or his?
Either left alone to do the rounds
Sharp tones, clipped words
No warmth I imagine
Definitely no tearful sobbing
No pause to take a breath
Nor needless apologies for the sudden call.

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