Staring At The Phone

A Prose (09/23/09)

    The clock at my bedside table is ticking, and i stare at it for hours and hours each night. A glass of water is ready for a night-long conversation. Waiting, for the phone to ring.

    As each night passes, the stars rotate and the pale and spotted moon changes its face. I wait in the silence, deep, deserted and being diminished by the dark. Waiting, for the phone to "wriiiiing!"