The telephone lines hum even on a clear still day.
When I lie on my back and no wind disturbs the leaves,
I can still hear the call of whispered conversations,
Along the copper wired humdrum messenger .
Margaret is pregnant again....joy or sorrow ?
Johnny Underwood died last night ...drunk or sober?
“Don’t say that on the phone you never know who might be listening”
And Ellie the ever eavesdropping Post mistress indignantly cries,
“How dare you insinuate I’m listening”
The vibrating copper linking souls to an engaged tone.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
The telephone lines hum even on a clear still day.
When I lie on my back and no wind disturbs the leaves,
I can still hear the call of whispered conversations,
Along the copper wired humdrum messenger .
Margaret is pregnant again....joy or sorrow ?
Johnny Underwood died last night ...drunk or sober?
“Don’t say that on the phone you never know who might be listening”
And Ellie the ever eavesdropping Post mistress indignantly cries,
“How dare you insinuate I’m listening”
The vibrating copper linking souls to an engaged tone.
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