| I was standing in my room Looking out my window Two hours on by I hear a call on the radio My telephone without A friendly voice and face saying How's it going When will you get there Get to be On the radio One year, two years, three years at the most Everyone said it was sure to be me No one thought he would ever go One more song on the radio. Me, I had a few years to go A few more years With a friend in a room Hearing a radio Call out its tunes No dial-in requests for the local few Another year and you'll be there, too. What could be newer Than a voice in the air Broadcasting, saying You'll soon be there Who would have thought that saying it so Would leave the same people with no years to go One more number on the phone No songs to go Another year Another note One more year and you'll be at home Two more years and you'll see your dreams Three more years and you'll be a dream Who heard the newest songs When standing on your own. "Call on the Radio," poem eight of "Lettersongs," unpublished work © 2008, Lisa Page Weil. All rights reserved. |