Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Voice

Lets set the scene.
It's dark. Not a cloud in the sky
Check the rear view
no cops tailing,
no other auto-motive assault waiting.
Excellent. Steep on the gas, see this metal fly
The wind sweeps by in streaks
grass blurs into a single stroke of green
The engine, reaving and roaring
like a man possessed, a hungry dog, a caged animal
propelling myself towards a voice
the source, not heard from or seen sight of
since times, long passed
so I asked
what made you call? The reply:
Thinking, wondering and possible fantasizing about
paused breaths
Where, I asked, are you, sweet thing
The place in the hills, far far out of sight and mind
But you if you'll recall you've been before, one occasion
by my invitation, on the day of personal celebration
Ah yes, I'll make my way you
See you soon, said the sensual tones coated with moans
My arrival, subtle
ridding down a road cobbled together out of gravel
Exited the vehicle, pensive, was this the right house
right place for me to be, what if
I though smelling my doubts, this venture proved to be
at least for me
a wasted opportunity
squandered time
then I saw the source of the voice
the my doubts went quite
Trailing out of the small home
extra long shirt on
brown skin illuminated in the glow of my headlights
We exchanged greeting, huggs
then I was presented with a surprise
the voice wore no single cloth more
this settled the score
The voice, not purring at the look on my face
pulled my down and
at my direction
Began to Sing

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