WHEN THE PHONE RINGS

A dark,  stormy night; I can hear the wind howl in the distance,

The rain pounds against the rooftop; there’s no one home, I’m alone.

A glow from the fireplace; the fire is warm as the shadows dance on the wall,

It would appear so peaceful to be safe and warm on this night; who is alright?

A random ring of the phone echoes throughout this quiet,  empty home,

I answer as any routine call,  a little static as a voice says a most fearful hello.

When the phone rings, anything can become real; tonight he speaks of tales,

He lets you know he’s still alive; your night is now of horror,  a nightmare tonight.

He has your number; he knows you’re quite alone in your out in the country home,

What does he say when he calls?  Does he whisper such fear into your ear?

Will this be your last call?  Will you ever again hear the phone ring?

Keith Garrett