In midst of chaos and abyss,
A wanton and lewd one,
A heart in great strife,
In search of meaningful way,
Only to convey a doleful heart,
Through a checked phone call.
After a helter-skelter for hours,
Called in from his cabin,
567 number is on line,
In haste called Nora is here!
Without greeting, switched to important part,
In midst of strength phone call.
After hath done my call,
Felt ease from clutches of fear,
Tried to fit in midst of despair and despondency,
Misunderstood! Sew words by govt, string,
Alas! Words were faint and inaudible as we entered into culture,
As it was hard for words as cannon ball,
In midst of guarded lips and muffled sound.
Undoubtedly out of delirium, for few gusts of wind,
Soothed a terrible heart aching lovingly,
Yet gripped again far and wide,
Bitten nerves, tightened muscles and numb in mind,
Such a flavour of weaving phone call.
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