Belt's Beeper
A tiny box, a plastic, humble frame,
The beeper lived, a servant to its name.
No voice it held, no screen of vibrant hue,
Just numbers stark, a message passing through.
A silent vigil clipped upon a belt,
A world away, a life that someone felt
Required its prompt, a call to urgent need,
A doctor's summons planting a swift seed.
The sudden shrill, a stark and piercing cry,
That cut through calm beneath a busy sky.
A coded message, brief and to the point,
A life in balance at a crucial joint.
No time for pleasantries, no lengthy plea,
Just urgency conveyed for all to see.
A hurried glance, a memorized command,
A race against the clock across the land.
It spoke of duty, of a life on call,
Responding quickly, lest a patient fall.
A tether thin to worlds beyond our sight,
A fragile link in darkness and in light.
Now phones abound with whispers, tones, and chimes,
The beeper's reign recedes to older times.
Yet in its silence, memories reside,
Of urgent calls where life and death collide.
A simple tool yet in its beeping sound,
A weight of responsibility was found.
A poignant echo of a bygone age,
When tiny boxes turned a crucial page.
©bfa040525
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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