They
lit up.
Each every small
blinking green one, I knew this even though I could see only one.
Phone systems are just that way.
And in tandem clarity the
trill took up at slight offset intervals amassing so loud together, she is call singing through
wires to me. Does she know the mere precedent to her voice orchestrates this? At times the song means more than her words. There was a time in the past when each
syllable was gold precious to hold forever, time passes for seasons the context of
conversations slipped sour to new meaning over years. Yet each time no matter the message, the phones would first
chorus to me the same as new. And in this I held hope that not each very thing must deteriorate, but may still hold precious parts of the original alongside the shifted result of memories merged years good times tears.