the phone

I have to do something whilst I wait

On my leg,

although small,

is a postman of potential,

a keyholder to my unanswered prayer,

the phone.

I'm waiting,

sitting here on the floor,

watching my fingers type,

trying to forget the cool contact of its surface

on my leg.

Anticipation

is killing me,

yet I know waiting is inevitable,

it could buzz though,

the vibrations-

maybe I missed it

Maybe, there were no vibrations,

I had the settings all wrong,

I left the room for a second

It could have buzzed

there could be a messag-

I would have heard it

or felt it

or saw it

there's no point checki-

I checked it.

Why won't it buzz

Reviews

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Oh the joys of owning a smart phone. We should remember it's just a phone. Life is more than waiting for a small gadget to ring. I fear the young generation of today.
I liked this poem. Very expressive and it flows well.
Clive