The Telephone Never Rings Poem by David Wood

She sits alone by the window
Lost in her thoughts as the rain falls,
Life is passing her by so slow,
Gone are the days of summer balls.

Her crumpled dress is like her life,
Now no music, no happiness.
She was once a good loving wife
And yet, there is no bitterness.

Watching life slowly drifting by,
She has watched the trees all year
And the flowers that grow then die,
Thoughts of when days were bright and clear.

She often looks at her telephone
Little comfort it never brings,
In silence, she is all alone
As the telephone never rings.

Life is passing by, that she knows.
She now watches her own decline
Thrown along like the wind that blows
And no-one will be there to pine.