Over the dead line we have called to you
To come across with a word to us,
Some beaten whisper of what happens
Where you are over the dead line
Deaf to our calls and voiceless.

The flickering shadows have not answered
Nor your lips sent a signal
Whether love talks and roses grow
And the sun breaks at morning
Splattering the sea with crimson.

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1 Comment

  1. Brent says:

    When i first got to this poem i thought how great a title this should mean a good poem but no i was wrong this poem sucks and any one who disagrees with me or something i said is wrong.

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