The Call Note

The air thick wirh honeysuckles
The sun pays homage to the street.
Birds annouce supper time
A couple dancing on the veranda
His full lps.
Her womanly hips

And I sit watching
thinking what a lovely view
Wishing on this soft spring day
that I had a hand to hold
and a man to give me that
knowing look

Instead I head inside
to my forgotten kettle
burnt now by the stove flame.
I arrange myself on the sofa.
not bothering to look back
through the door.
Silencing the whimsical pitch
Setting my disenchanted soul free.
Electing the liberty that comes
in the form of a book.

Hollowed chest.

Longing aborted
Forgotten swoon.

-Tosha Michelle

Advertisements

31 thoughts on “The Call Note

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s