Small shoes take heavy, toddling steps
across wooden planks as fingers
connect telephone calls one plug in at a time.
It was the 1950’s in a small town
where everyone knew the cause
of the clatter on the line.
I found my voice early in two rooms
of a dusty brick store building.
I was blond, chattering precociousness.
Warm evenings found me on the front porch
of the telephone office where open windows
carried my voice to everyone making a call.
One ring, two rings, I was on.
I did my own version of talk radio
for each caller holding on the line.
©Susie Clevenger 2013
Victoria Slotto a dVerse Poets Pub had us mining our
childhood memories for inspiration.