Oh that old telephone cord tightly wound. All the memories of the ring, and pulling the cord as far around the dining table as it could go. In want for no one to hear the giggles, and the stories that were being told.
Oh that old telephone how dare it ring while at the dinner table. Always wishing they ask for you. Homework could wait, maybe it was the ask of a date.
Oh that old telephone it was far from a smart phone like we all carry in hand today, yet all the memories of gossip told. It was always on walls display. A finger, or arms length away.
Oh that old telephone did you have one, two, or maybe even your very own?
Oh that old telephone all I know is my kids will never have the experience of sitting up against the dining room wall for hours twiddling the cord with their thumb. Talking gibberish, laughing loud. Having to keep checking the time, because how dare you go past nine. Oh those memories are divine.