Poetry: Her Voice

Loving words dictate the days
of the rhythm and of its ways
sweet it rests and surely stays
until love’s portent softly plays.

A  quiet sound can seem loud
loosens my lonely sullen crowd
from a mind which can be proud
renews a hope shreds a shroud.

In this park sweet children run
playing at games and having fun
shout and laugh under the sun
joyous loving this day is won.

Her voice soft such joyful things
buries dead all my sullen kings
to my heart to my soul it sings
such revelry to me she brings.


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