Telegraph your feelings to me

I’m looking at the point where conversations meet,
The lines draw my eyes to the focus, hocus pocus are you there?
I’m waiting for the phone to ring and I will greet
You with a shy, ‘hello?’
I’m hanging on but not on the line,
Our wires are crossed, lost, tossed, are you there?
I’m watching the wires as they align
You might speak and go with the flow.
I’m listening to birdsong as brittle claws wobble on the wires,
Snatches of echoes behind the pleasantry, open sesame are you there?
I’m nervous as the operator never tires,
She’s sharp, ‘I’m putting you through, just a mo!’
I’m catching my breath as the telegraph pole sways
And I hear myself say, ‘Are you there?’
I gasp as I hear you – abracadabra, alakazam any phrase
Will do, just so long as I know.
The beauty of the panorama, the shapeshifting grandeur of the vista,
Opens up, yet my vision tapers to the old wooden pole.
And I pick up the receiver, no more the rejected deceiver
And after a lifetime I gasp, transatlantic drawl,
‘Hello, are you there? This is your long-lost sister.’

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