Trailing Voice

The start,
The voice picks up.
Warmth rushing in.
The voice coming through,
Words, melodies of meaning.

A mere moment, gone as soon as started.

Sitting here beaming.
Never wanting it to end.

Sitting here,
In wonder and beauty.

A temporary end,
Nearing.

A goodbye,
Meaning,
Kindness.
Lighting the fog of the world.
Care shining through.
Parting the black clouds,
Warming the surrounding air.
Enveloping me.

As the goodbye comes,
Bitter-sweet,
But sweet for the next,
The next moment to come,
The next to pass,
And again to come.

The goodbye,
Your voice,
Trailing off,
Into the distance,
So sweet.
Receding from view.

Played over in my mind.
In love with the voice,
The mind.
Little things of beauty.
Total and whole.

The voice trailing off into the distance,
Played,
Again in my mind.

The cute laugh,
Kind sigh,
Beautiful mind,
A whole shown,
A world unknown.
A beauty whole, complete and unknown.

A glimpse.
A time.

As this voice.
Recedes.
Trailing voice.
But only for a time.


This is an incredibly happy poem, a nice poem, a love poem, those small things, small moments.

Living in bliss, finally once found. Even in the smallest but most meaningful of things.

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