the sanctity of a mid-day call

the phone rings. 1:17 p.m.

amidst my typing, I let it break the silence.

it’s you.  

telling me about the coffee you spilled

on your new shirt.

the one I saw hanging in your closet.

i wanted it to be mine.

your voice pours in like sunlight,

through the crisp shutters,

at an hour when you didn’t expect it.

you speak to trivial things-

a meeting gone wrong,

a squirrel dancing along the railing,

a dream you had and forgot halfway through

but remembered just enough to share with me.

and just before we part,

the dimples in your cheeks form,

along with the quick,

“I love you”

not with ceremony, but with the warmth

of something said a thousand times

and still, never enough.

time no longer paused, the clock reminding me. But now the world has a little more color than it did at 1:16 p.m.

midday calls from people I love

feel like tiny lifelines thrown into

a busy sea.

like waves crashing repeatedly along

an ever-present shore,

a soft, familiar reminder

full of love.