www.whyville.net Jul 6, 2014 Weekly Issue



autumnlov
Guest Poet

Conch Cell

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
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PANDEMIC
I put the phone up to my ear,
You're whispering things that endear.
We talk all night; the world could never sustain
Our silly conversations of movies and chow mien.
Forget the weather, ask how bright my eyes shine,
Or if I've seen that person that you malign.
Old friends never parted, when the phone rings
We're there with each other discussing the randomest things.
The time we've let slip seems a scratch in the past,
For the banter we have will always surpass.
But then days after days I don't hear from you,
And people say things that could never be true.
They tell me you're gone and will never be back,
They apologize profusely while wearing black.
I find these false statements to be a bit raunch,
Because I pick up the phone and hear your voice like a conch.

 

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