Another poem from my archives, that I’ve tinkered with, and rehashed slightly. The poem was written years before Carole passed, so the wording is quite ambiguous and introverted, and I’ll leave it up to your imaginations.
Just A Call Away
Waiting, when is she to summon me.
Pondering what might have been.
Writing to one and all a finale.
Pen to paper, wanting her to see.
How I survived the Tasman Seas.
Secretly thinking I’m the chosen one.
Wondering if it’s a selfish sin.
To wear my second skin
Like a coat of tarnished tin
Ivor Steven (c) 2018.
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 