She Speaks in Song

She speaks:


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?


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...

View grahf's Full Portfolio