Category: Creative process, Lyrics, 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

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