A Simple phonecall

A Poem

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.

Maybe a letter will arrive
Formal and accusing
Where were you when?
Why didn’t you come?
When I didn’t know if he still lived.

Do I care anymore
Beyond a child’s memory
Of a man that kept himself a stranger
Even when he was there?

When the call comes
I will answer
When the letter arrives
I will read it
When the time comes
I will mourn
Not for what was
But for what could have been
Should have been
If only we’d both tried harder.

© Chris Noonan
Thank you for reading.