Black, standing tall.
Shining beside the candlelight.
Calling for me to play the tones of it's dial,
Round and round,
As each number hits.
My soul jumps back, to a different century,
Blonde hair, pressed curls to my head.
Delicate fingers, turn the dial,
Heart races,
Stopping at number five.
Hanging up.
Laying by a fireplace,
Defeated,
Yet in bliss.
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