I've blogged this before. I've also added it to my poetry page. I simply had to blog it again. The majesty of this poem is without measure.
From the telephone by Florence Ripley Mastin
From the telephone by Florence Ripley Mastin
Out of the dark cup
Your voice broke like a flower.
It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.
The caress in its touch
Made my eyes close.
Your voice broke like a flower.
It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.
The caress in its touch
Made my eyes close.
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