Telephone Comedy Poem by Subrata Ray

He evoked instinct,
And set links of haunting spell,
Tinged the lovers’ love,
And keeps hidden his tale.

Many of us, once, twice, thrice,
Link our cell-phone to communicate,
None he discards, but inspires,
And every one he promises to meet.

What happens worst, is his sudden retreat,
From us, call goes, but his voice does not sit.
After some repeated try, most of us retard pursuit,
And forget obviously, the truth of his merit.

Very few of us, leave no despair,
And with renewed zeal manage address,
Desert, forest, perilous rocks, step abreast,

Some of those few can’t drag their body,
To the distance of that changing long,
With tears, but no merit wish his visit,
And sees him in them, and suffering throng!