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She Speaks in Song
She speaks:
Softer,
like a midnight saxophone
smokily purring something somber
from atop coal trains
rolling by
quietly in the dark.
The sound of subtle harmony
perennially imbued
in my soul,
as added muse.
A voice,
tenderly subdued
into a hum.
A furtive glow
escapes her voice,
flushing the air
with traces of a choice:
Do I let her coo... coo...
her hymn?
Or meander,
limb by limb
to join?
Tapestries
are spun
from her tongue
and hung over my eyes.
Others fly
as atmospheric cries
quilted into
colored skies,
magically spanned.
And like a golden eagle of glass
her note soars high enough
to filter rays into riches
and magnify them
all over my land.
Here I lay...
They say
Life is just a ruse.
A transition
between nothing
and even less.
But she's given me something
to lose...
