Ten PM

I wasn't asked my preference;
would I like either/or?
...Was just assigned to second shift.
The one I knew before.
Was it the wisest choice for me?
That point, one can debate.
But there is one advantage which
I do appreciate!
If I worked on another shift,
I'd be at home at ten.
I'd see the clock and think, perhaps,
this night, you'd phone again.
For, that is when each night, you'd call
and we'd then share our day.
Some nights we chatted, endlessly;
some nights...had less to say.
But now, when home at ten PM,
the phone is ever-still.
It just seems right for Col to call;
I guess it always will.
That sharing of my day would
always happen, I'd supposed.
It seemed so right for all that time.
Now, days don't seem quite closed.
But, when at work at ten PM
nostalgia, ne'er appears.
But, at that time if I am home,
the silence brings me tears.


The Inspiration for this poem
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