Phone Call

The sound of your voice;
a sugar-coated violet
resting on white silk.

Luxury.
Invades me,
holds me captive in chains of smoke
rolling and
roiling
against a pane of
darkened glass.

It fills my ears
like Merlot fills my glass
and splashes
with a menthol coolness,
sending shivers down my spine.

Babygirl,
I've missed you
and wanted you
all day.
But here I am,
and there you are, and I've got one thing
left to say:

If ever there was a time
to say
my
name
it's now.