darling,
sometimes, even
in the in-between-of-breath,
i hear your pleas, your tugs,
your call...
and though i don't always
pick up the phone and dial
i always reach for you
always reach for you
always reach...
i grasp at air,
sometimes,
for you hang-up after
only two rings
but darling,
i promise,
even though it feels
like light years, as if we
must walk over hot coals or
blankets of ice to find one another,
in all actuality,
i'm only a dial-tone and
seven digits away.

08/02/2002

Posted on 08/02/2002
Copyright © 2025 Rachelle Howe