You called; it was from somewhere far away.
You called to say hello in your sweet way.
Not so much with news but how you’re feeling;
our talk was so much more than just appealing.
You called to say your Dad was making tea;
that, whilst you wait, you’d make a call to me.
An inner smile grew as I listened on
to the silences between the song
that comes from somewhere in your life, so full
of energy and zest, that you just pull
…me with you and, yet, wherever you go
metaphysically, little you know
how much it is you say to me, not talking
of all of your imaginings, while walking,
or perhaps you’re standing, hearing me,
whilst you contemplate what is for tea.
Whatever it may be that you are thinking
I know you’d love to talk and, in a blinking,
you will, and I’ll be thinking: are we blessed
or will we ask, politely, for you to rest?
© 2011 John Anstie
(View the author’s commentary on this poem)