You saw that phone in the window of a shop,
and every time we passed the window you'd stop...

this poem is a Ballade
a french form composed of 3 stanzas and an envoy...

It calls me back,day after day,
to pass churlish,pejorative,insolent remarks...

I feel the spark along the invisible wire,
and its sad but its true...

I wish that i could act,
and laugh after iv cried...

I cannot seem to write anymore,
my words just dont rhyme...

We've done everything together,
we've always been "birds of a feather&quot...

I met you after ages today,
without old feeling or emotion...