To call or not to call,
it's a dilemma
since the invention of telephone.
For years, no contact;
for ages, only ten miles apart.
I want to call you,
to hear you say you are OK,
not sick, not forgetting me, not attached.
Well, I am not too ambitious--
just not sick will be sufficient.
The call will be a surprise to you,
an embarrassment to me,
a misstep to be reflected again and again later on.
I will say it's because of the coronavirus.
Otherwise I would not have called.
I just want to know you are OK,
nothing else intended.
Still I think it will make you
vain and conceited.
If I do not call,
I will live in quiet despair forever.
Just call him, get embarrassed or even humiliated.
Then it will be the end of it.
Will it be the end?
It will be another string of heartbreaks.
Forget it.
Admit I'm a coward and be quiet.
It is
for years
in me
not over
since then
You from me
farewell
have taken
without a word
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So true. Wonderful poem about the void people leave behind when they leave.
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Nice blog
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đđ Thank you.
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