The phone is ringing. To you I am singing.

I was accused recently by Goldie of suddenly going all romantic. In truth I have always considered myself to be a romantic at heart and, if occasionally, my expressed thoughts turn to lust or to sarcasm or to cynicism this is only to hide the nervous, gentle little teenage boy who took carefully concealed glimpses at the girls on the school bus so teasingly hidden within their short school dresses and within all their mystery. He is still there within me.

But in matters of the heart honestly can be an illusive entity – and I know the form that it’s opposite takes in men. Women, of course, I trust implicitly.

I think that Cyranny may have been hinting at that recently so, once again, I take the idea from her. And I hope that Goldie might be more comfortable with my lack of romanticism in this instance.

**

A phone call from a lover

A little tale to cover

Every hidden part

Of his meaning

And of his heart

Just the start

Of his scheming

To keep the ball in play

But never to say

Who will win or lose

But to choose

In his head

To hold possession

With no aggression

And no eyes

But instead

With carefully crafted lies

That will not say. Or betray

What has been rehearsed

And so sweetly conversed

He has thrown you a rope

But it is your choice to be naïve

And to believe

What you would hope

To be true

And conceive

Of something new

Clinging

To a dream

Singing

Of your joy

For this boy

All alone

On the phone

Only a call

You don’t see him at all

Pretending he would ever really care

Pretending he was ever really there

**

11 thoughts on “The phone is ringing. To you I am singing.

    1. Sweet? Really? It wasn’t meant that way. More of a confession on behalf of those with whom I share hormones. If Cyranny (or anyone else) chooses to melt then I am happy, of course, to tenderly lap up all that has melted.

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      1. That may be true … but I was not attempting to be smutty on this occasion. If you are referring to my reaction to people melting then I was interpreting the act of melting as being praise which, of course, I would happily lap up.
        Wow! Someone help me out here!

        Like

      2. I must confess to acts of gross indecency on occasions. This time, however, I am innocent of such a charge. And I’m therefore a little bit concerned about where YOUR mind was going.

        Like

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