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Call Me

It's him!
She picks up.
The deep timbre
Of his voice
Reaches down the line
And thrums through her centre.
A vibration so sweet
And so deliciously low
That she melts to liquid.
Can he tell
She is all pounding of heart
And weak of stance just
At the sound of his voice?
Does he know what she would do to him?
If only he would ask!
She wraps herself in the sound of him instead.

Then the dreaded moment.

He has to go.
Goodbye then....

She waits for the beep....beep....beep
To help slow her breathing.
Oh Boy!
Thanks for calling.

© 2012

poem by Ruby Honeytip
Added by Poetry Lover
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