He eases into it
as if it were not half as easy.
It starts a quiet hum,
so I have to wait a long time
for the softer voice of his own life.
He begins to sing,
about himself, his world, his words.
His voice grows stronger
with each word and soon
I can hear his words loud and clear,
his melody is one similar to my own,
hauntingly but so full of hope.
He strings along words of fondness and
significance, followed closely by dislike
and loss. He sings for me,
I know his worries and self-doubt
as if it were my own.
He sings words of trust my ears alone
can understand and decipher.
He often looks behind him
as though to make sure he's alone;
he over looks my presence as if
I'm where he expects his heart to be.
He sings for me words of
trust and love,
his voice has never sung louder
in the presence of another.
A voice so soft
now leaving echos through out the room,
but only for me.