The Public Payphone

Alone I stand, a relic in the park.

My chrome skin gleams, a tarnished silver tear,

Where once I pulsed with voices, far and near.

I held the weight of whispered sweet nothings,

Urgent pleas, and frantic, joyful things.

Proposals breathed, goodbyes with trembling hand,

A lover's vow, a child's request for sand.

My buttons, worn by countless fingertips,

Recalled the warmth where someone's hope would drip.

A coin would chime, a connection made complete,

A lifeline thrown across the city's street.

Though silent now, the memories remain,

A symphony of voices, whispering through the rain.

I dream of days when fingers grazed my face,

A world connected, embraced in one warm space.

And though the cell phone reigns with instant call,

A part of me still yearns to stand up tall.

For in that pause, that search for coins to find,

A deeper touch, a connection of the mind.

So let me stand, a monument of care,

A silent witness to the love we share.

A forgotten friend, but one who holds so dear,

The echoes of connection, ringing loud and clear.