It’s where we meet every Christmas season
Regardless of weather or circumstances
No matter what…our gift to each other.
We met on the bus, struck up friendship
We were young, and neither had a phone
But that red telephone booth made for
A can’t-miss meeting place.
When you moved away we wrote letters
Through time and tides, our holiday visit
Was something grand to look forward to…
When your parents passed away, then your wife…
When I got divorced…and couldn’t keep a job.
You became a huge success, yet you call me
Your champion…a loyal friend is priceless.
It’s snowing like crazy this year, hope you’ll
Make it—I’ve baked your favorites… Inside the
Red phone booth, I move chilly feet, waiting.
A luxury car pulls up…you, hurrying toward me.
A hug, kisses on cheeks, and you grab my bag of
Goodies in one hand, my arm in the other, usher
Me to warmth of your new sedan.
At the pizza shop, you extend shiny-wrapped box
I open it, laugh with joy, “Perfect, a telephone!”
Not just a phone, you tell me, it has all the latest
Tech-y upgrades… “I’ll never learn”, I say, blushing.
“Instructions are on the back”…you wear a shy smile.
Turning it over, I read note: “They’re taking out the
Quaint telephone booths, including our meeting spot…
But I have a plan—Will You Marry Me?”
©VIGIL HOURS & Rene Hearthchild, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.