By wistful
Date: 2002 Apr 08
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[[2002.04.08.02.46.23961]]

On Alert

The phone rings and I jump sky high
Heart racing, full of hope, I blunder
All alone
   to the phone.

And with trembling hand I answer
Hearing just my pulse's thunder
Is it you?
   Is it true?

As I hear a nameless voice
Selling this week's cleaning wonder
I decline
   and drop the line.

Unvoiced screams explode within me
Rip my fragile calm asunder
As the tears
   tell my fears

Racked by endless hours of waiting
Rapidly I'm going under
From the pain
   of this strain.

Yet I wait in fevered tension
Once again to sit and wonder
If you'll call
   me at all. . .