A WEEK had passed,
And Lee became aware
That she had had no word, no line
From Wayne, no sign,
No coffin-like box of long-stemmed flowers.
Nothing but silence, unfriendly, dumb.
Yet at first
She nursed
Faith in her magical powers,
Didn't much care,
Feeling sure he would come
At last.

But soon, she noticed, astounded,
That she was always listening. . . hearing
The telephone bell whenever it sounded,
Always hurrying, hoping, fearing. . .
Surely this time it must be - it is,
His voice I shall hear. But it never was his.

Other men came and wrote and wired,
Other men flattered her smallest whim.
More and more she desired
Only a word from him. . .