Long Distance Call

I still accept your 2:00 a.m. rings;
syllables spilling holy metaphor
onto my pillow on clear nights
when all I want to do

is lie wrapped in his arms,
on the verge of a vision;

constellations clamoring
to make an appearance
behind sheer blue curtains

and swirl into the next line
of a poem.

or are they a figment
of an overzealous muse;
letters dawning,

over sleepy eyed poets
who have nothing better to do
than imagine.

~(I am penning a poem a day from November 24th through December 25th, 2016 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day #12)


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