The Phone Call Poem by Paul Hartal

The Phone Call



With a faint smile on her lips
She whispered: "I will contact you, Darling".

On the same night she died in his arms
And he was heartbroken and inconsolable.

Since then plenty of water has flowed
under the bridge. And then one day, he was

At home and unexpectedly he remembered
her promise: "I will contact you."

At that moment the telephone suddenly rang
and a warm, familiar voice said: "Hello."

"Sweetheart, it is me." Excited and trembling,
he asked: "Darling, is it really you? "

Silence. The line got disconnected.
The call came from an unlisted number.

Monday, January 1, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: mystery
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