There is a noise
Coming from another room,
A ringing buzzing sound.
I think it might once
Have been called a phone.
And people used them
To talk and stay in touch.
Sounds like a lovely
Quaint little idea.
I would have loved
To see this phone in action.
So you’d think I’d be pleased,
That an old handset is
Chirping away in the dark,
Somewhere in the maze
Of this rambling house.
The only thing is,
Unless I am wrong,
You need two people
To make a phone call,
And I am the only
One left.

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