You - You
By Joe Dickinson
Phone, phone,
Bring me the letter
That all is well
With my sweet love.
Begin your game,
And put all others to shame –
Oh nothing makes me
Stop in my tracks anymore!
Those juices of life –
Once thought missing,
Or dead –
Return with a vengeance.
My heart flutters,
As though
Your tap on the shoulder
Somehow means
That I had saved myself.
Copyright 2007 Joe Dickinson