On The Line
In a long thin arc of loneliness
where nothing collides, I wait.
Face flushed, intestines pounding,
minutes and hours drag by.
Alarm cuts the steep silence.
Vertigo bells resound.
Handle to mouth,
this cradle rocks me.
I reach to speak through a thread,
grip your voice with mental muscles.
Flowers burst in my heart.
A laugh of two becomes one.
Not enough time.
Don’t hang up.
- Judith Pordon
The object of love may be an idea, a dream, a reality. The love is there. And it grows—depending, of course, on the ability of the lover to crystallize the beloved.
– Carlos BulosanAbout me
I am God's daughter and I love Him dearly. :)
