The wrong call

Once there was a call,

made with a misplaced digit.

Picked by a person not intended at.

Sharp questions were shot,

Vague words were received.

Painted with abrupt syllables,

beautifully they were answered.

Perennial moments passed.

Sound of the keys had become a music,

And the answer,

healing to a wounded soul.

Sunken deep were tales of benevolent treachery;

And here was the earth to let them decay into.

It wasn’t a gust of fresh breeze; No.

Neither was it eternal.

It was just a wrong number

and a wrong person;

Sequinned in the fabric of time,

just where it should be.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s