The Phone Poem by John Yaws

I'm sitting here alone tonight-
Another motel room.
The ticking of my bedside clock,
Loud as the crack of doom...

The phone justs sits there silent.
I long to reach and dial...
Regretfully, I put it down...
And sit here for awhile.

Austin is a lovely town-
But it is not my own...
I sit here bored and lonely,
By the silent telephone.

I long to hear your lovely voice,
But that would not be fair...
To offer what can never be,
So I'll just leave it there.

I pour a cup of coffee-
Look out at old Ben White-
And glare in anger at the phone,
Which is so quiet tonight...

There! I almost did it-
But what could I have said?
I think that I'll unplug the phone-
And then I'll go to bed.