A Strange Telephone Conversation with Jen

Written by: Gerald Nforche

Number 6 of

“Be that Miss Jen?” shuddered my voice.
Oh Eros, for three barren year I have waited.
“Alloo,” came from the other end, soft , softer
Pulling my very heart from my enfeebled chest.
That voice, the fuel of my hitherto dying soul; 
Voice of Jen. 

If by the hand of providence 
I was at that moment fossilized,
An eternal smile be on that face registered
So that the world be told I loved her true.

Permit reader to tell thee what so troubled a voiced plodded-
I implore thee listener to hold those hearts like men
For no worse pestilence, no worse dissatisfaction 
Had I before felt when that voice quivered in resignation.

“Gerald, no human in this world
Will point to me as a friend-
I have none save fiends and pestilence.
No family at my call.
I have lived in a world of gloom and deceit.
Oh Gerald, if my very pain be understood.

And Jen resolved to exhume for my ears
That self-pity and doom of those gloomier years…