The Ticking Of The Clock Poem

I always have a yearning when I have spoken to you;
One minute I can hear your voice, the next minute, we are through.

It seems to me that's how it goes, the silence makes me blue;
I guess the silence lets me know I can't get enough of you.

I reach my hand through the phone, you're always out of reach;
You must come closer to the phone, is now my silent speech.

The time slows down, it seems to crawl, slowly the clock hands slide;
I know that you are gone from me, another day, I must abide.

I sit quietly till it's time for me to shut my eyes;
Perchance to meet you in my dreams, and kiss my green eyed guy.