Tanka
Has a telephone
Which, rings in an empty room
A let down echo
Not cradled in a warm hand
And not heard a lover’s voice.
Tanka
Dusty dance hall
Empty for twenty years
Echo of last waltz
Murmurs from wallflowers …are
A sad whisper in the night
oskar hansen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tankarama/
