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Answer machines are my only friends



 

I pick up the phone

I dial a number; unimportant

I talk to myself and wait for the tone

No one is ever in

Do I want them to be – I don’t know?

I pray they answer, but they never do

It’s always the same whenever I call

I could be in hospital after a fall

I could be younger with a broken heart

In need of advice from the man at the mini-mart

But I’m not – I’m old

I sit at bus queues and talk of the past

About the cost of today and the life – how fast

I can only afford the single phone

I have no family

The answer machines are my only friends

I’m just old, tired…and mostly alone

By Tom Dearden 

About poetreecreations

I am an author writer publisher web administrator I run poetry workshops in the community. My published Manners childrens poetry book can be found at www.waterstones.com

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