Hurtful Hours

So many hurtful hours
until I'll hear your voice.
Just seconds, just seconds
that would be my choice.

The wait is long. The wait is hard.
It's so very tough.
And when I finally hear from you
the minutes are not enough.

I sit on pins and needles
and let the time go by.
Sometimes I get weepy.
I try hard not to cry.

'Cause crying is a hurtful thing
and is no help to me.
So I dry my tears and wait for the phone
to bring sweet peace to me.

Speak to me. Speak to me.
Tell me what I want to hear,
that those hurtful, hurtful hours
are the same for you, my dear.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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