He kissed me—
in the middle of the night,
in the very most earliest parts of the morning,
the words come out of my sleep
(sleep, after hours
of insomnia and fits of homesickness)
—He kissed me.
I hold the phone closer to my ear
and sit up in bed.
He kissed you?
He kissed me.
I called you.
Author notes
Written November 1st, 2005
What did you think
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1 - 6 of 6
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Well, I suppose I'd rather have that sort of call at 2:00 am, as opposed to a depressing, suicidal, death call.
I love happenings of the wonderfully early morning variety.
Your imagery is wonderful in this. -
Thanks, Anne. And you're right.
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this is happy. it is good to have ties to home re-affirmed. -
wonderfully, almost whimsically familiar
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This is lovely - it's sweet and simple but it has that non-definable under-layer that I think all good poems have, which incites the reader to believe in what's going on and not being said. Loved the closing lines - all girlish and happy and confiding. Lovely.
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sweet!
Hehehe, it's a sweet little poem. But, might I add. you take being called at two thirty in the morning far better than I do. I'd hang up and write a poem about death to a very annoying person. haha, just kidding. I love this poem, it's sweet!
keep writing, and go back to sleep! lol
~Ash~
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