Call Waiting

The soft sunlit dew calling morning winds to pass,
A huddled raincoat walking past reflections in the glass,
The song of sparrows calling out the soft lament of mating,
The silence of the telephone as I remain call waiting.

A smear of once warm fingers on the trembling window pain,
A long-cold cup of coffee and the circling of its stain,
The drumming of impatience, the sound of molars grating,
The silence of the telephone as I remain call waiting.

The half expectant smile of lips that long to kiss again,
The eyes of one who sees much more than windowglass and rain,
The silence of the telephone that hails to those in dating,
The future of your life evolves while you remain call waiting.