The call arrives at midnight
Don't they always come?
In dank and dreary darkness
No matter who they're from
Still alive at breakfast
Tousled half awake
Shaking out the cobwebs
Another night mistake
"He's dead," he says—then nothing
What else is there to say?
So clear, so frank, so certain
Sure as the break of day
What does one say at midnight?
Or breakfast or at noon
Alleviate the darkness
For one more afternoon
Hug the phone in silence
Can any words express?
Helpless, hopeless, heartfelt
Nothing I possess
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