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An Expected Call
Recess.
A long snake-like queue
Facing the telephone booth,
A boy stood, waiting
Seemingly hard to soothe
Halfway.
Some were calling friends,
Others were joking, jovially
A boy erected, stood,
Waiting, anxiously
5 minutes remain.
Afar a whistle blew,
the line soon dispersed
A boy remained unruffled,
Unmoved, now first
With a hand slight trembling,
With a palpitating heart,
A boy reached out fast,
Punched in, verse now start.
-
Mother, I got an A
Mother, I'm first in class
Mother, I made new friends
Mother, fret, worry not.
-
Towards a teacher approached
Pointed, she stopped
The boy gave a smile,
Nodded, resumed fast.
-
Mother, I won a prize
Mother, I helped a stranger
Mother, I hope you're proud
Mother, fret, worry not.
-
A hurried tone began
Words became muffled.
The boy seemingly anxious,
Enunciating quick.
-
Mother, I washed my clothes
Mother, I took care of sister
Mother, I'm independent
Mother, fret, worry not
mom, where are you?
mom, where did you go?
mom, whatever happened?
mom, fret, worry aye.
mom, warning, no?
mom, left, no return?
mom, us eternal waiting,
mom, fret, worry aye.
mom, no longer see!
mom, no longer hear!
mom, no longer talk!
mom, I'm in fear!
mom, I'll talk later.
mom, I'll call you everyday.
mom, don't you ever leave.
Mom, this is you, isn't it?
With a lone tear in his eye,
He dropped the phone, sigh,
A heart full of dread, he walked,
Longing, for more talk.
The boy might have left,
Though the call was still not yet cut.
A woman's voice rose sweetly,
"10.32am, the present time it is,
Thank you for calling us and,
We hope you call again."
End of recess.
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This poem depicts a heartwrenching tale of a schoolboy whose mother left his life one day. Devoid of motherly love, and full of desire to speak to his mum one day, he queued up in his school telephone booth longing to speak to his mother. The start of this poem depicts a cheery and jovial scene of the other students using the phone for "jokes" and for light-hearted talk, and this is juxtapositioned with the boy's anxiety.
The boy starts off casually, giving the reader an impression of him telling his mother all his achievements and what he has done, but slowly accelerates in content as well as in pace when he starts sharing about what he does at home, which gives rise to puzzlement in the reader as the question comes about: shouldn't the mother know about this? As the dialogue progresses, it is noted that it is more of a one-way interaction as the boy did not pause to await a reply, and my line "mom, this is you, isn't it?" hints at the possibility that the recipent might not actually be his mother after all?
The end of the poem finally reveals the truth when we realise that the recipent is actually someone who reports the time and not his mother, and the actual reason why the boy called her was to pretend that he was talking to his mother, and to relish the memories he has of his mother as well as to say everything which he wanted to say to his mother but never has a chance to. This poem ends off at a depressing tone as we sympathise with this boy who is devoid of motherly love, and longs to speak to his mother again.