12:00 o'clock and it's
time for bed, but
as soon as the pillow
meets my head
all thoughts of sleep
evaporate like all the
tears I'm forced to keep
bottled inside, and I wish
the phone would ring and
your voice would greet me,
and tell me you had to hear
my voice too, and that
it's not just me
missing you.

So I lay in bed, chin
tucked, blanket drawn,
as I pray for a call to help
me as I wait out the dawn.
And time creeps and
crawls, like all the cracks
I'm counting on the wall,
and I'm waiting for
the phone call, which
I know probably
won't come, but
still, tenaciously, to
Hope I hang on
until my eyelids drop
off, and sleep beckons
with a forceful hand that
drags me off to
Dream(less) Land.

And I can't resist my
body's need for sleep,
because biology can't
be deceived, and so
I sleep — can't fight it,
I've got no choice.
But then, the phone
rings and I startle
awake to the
sound of your voice
as you tell me
"I love you," and

And finally, it will be.


L. Kantenseter