Category: Art, StoriesTag: , ,

Words of a Voice

She slips into the room, unannounced, unheard

Lets her small voice slip between stone-aged curves

Unadulterated, still unfound

Unsure, still without sound


Her hand reaches over, tentative to fear

A soft skin enveloping a hand young with years

In that moment I saw all she could be

And wished more for her than I did ever for me


Fingers point softly to the words on a page

Her middle one directing the orchestra’s gaze

With words plain in view, they began to be heard

As the symphony rose, and her words gently stirred


In this quiet summer air she began to take breath

And the generations before who had wished they’d been there

Let their memories rise up and come to the stage

An assembly of souls, in unison played


As she walked with the words, her voice did rise

And the syllables danced while the consonants cried

The violins skipped haughtily to the beat of her drum

And the cellos mourned gleefully at this prodigal son


The crescendo, you ask, did it shine for all to hear?

You ask that of me, why not ask that of her?

When a young girl makes words come alive on the page

An orchestra of souls will always come to the stage

An Orchestra of Words

An Orchestra of Words

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