The calendar hangs silent days encircled weeks lined through and still, you have not called My wallet, in eerie death, close by where once, in wealth, your number held now, impoverished, lies Clothes await their cleaning in crumpled piles, in corners dim where once, you touched their meaning removing each, at your whim Christmas passed, the New Year's kiss then Valentine's and yesterday all are circled, all are lined - - - What callous chaos envied this? The calendar hangs silent with days encircled with months lined through and still, you have not called C1997 Thomas Lee Rhymes - written 03/13/97
Reason for writing:
So many months, of this relationship, were spent in waiting.
But, at the time, it seemed to go by so quickly. The expectation of
the love we were to make, kept my mind occupied. And the days - slipped away.
NOW, that the love is over, the calendar reflects those missed opportunities -
those days when we were to meet, circled - those weeks, in between, lined through.
And still, she has not called me. She never will.
Birth sign: Not entered
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