I Miss My Phone

My very heart and soul do break, 

So forlorn and woebegone

When I , alone with my pajamas on

Have been begrudged my telephone.

 

I go to Google’s Hangouts and 

Punch my number into the keys.

And hope and pray that maybe please

Its dulcet ring will soon arise.

O I suspect where it may be

Perchance in my pajama bottom

At least that’s where it was last autumn.

And just where are they when I need’em?

 

 

If it into my pants pockets was tossed

And only for a moment lost

I hope that soon our paths will have again crossed

And it will not in a machine get washed.

 

 

Welcome to Chelsea’s WEEKLY TERRIBLE POETRY CONTEST .