The Call Box

           The Call Box.
  Luminescence in the dark, it’s light cast upon the frozen ground. Hovering there for your voice to hear, be there for me, not to let me down.
  With cold cold hands that rap the receiver , and crystal tears that block your voice. With shivering lips I call your name, with a stammering sound that has no choice.
 The wind wiped snow that covers my limbs, now has frozen my feet, must we talk about him. As I pace the street with you in my hand, why I’m not there with you, I don’t understand.
  I’m in a call box, on a cold winters night, talking to a person I used to know. About another place in time, when our hearts were warmer and there was no snow.
  So long ago, when talk was not written, when love held my hand. When I stared in your eyes, at that which we could understand.
  I long for the days when I’d wait for your ring, from the call box cross town. But I had to let you go, before a cell was where I was bound.

By GWRoggenbuck