On losing my phone whilst waiting for my beloved

The agony of waiting making me a teenager again

It’s funny how something so very simple,

Can catapult me back to dark days of luddites.

And here I am made anew, the wartenderhund.

Made of anticipation, the lows and the heights.

Watching and waiting, each person an insult,

Longing for love’s sweet glance, at last in my sight.

The torture of each minute that drags on ever slower,

The hope that’s dashed with each disappointing flight.

And the strange, unexpected severing of our cord

I reach out in desperation, with my mind to find your light…

When suddenly I see your face, and I am a believer!

The sun comes out,

The world is technicolour once more.

Golden, shining, filled with song and dance routines.

I open the car door to rush to your side,

And there in its recesses, is my phone.