Pieces of Moonbeams

XCVIII: first song

first song

your voice is the one
i want first to hear in the morning.
in my sorrow days, you filled with joy;
from the start, from the very beginning.

i'd love to be in the
spheres of space you're in.
i'd love to co-exist there with you;
locked in a space empty—
for with you i am never lonely.

i'd love not to cut
the strings that bind us both.
maybe it's friendship, maybe it was love—
but, it's you i can never have.

i'd love to listen slowly
to how your throat forms wavelengths
of the mellow music, of strips of melodies,
of waves of frequencies—
when your deep voice bursts bubbles of music
at the surface of my earlobes--
when you've read my handwritten poetries
that i've told you to read.

maybe the sound that i love to listen to—
came not from grand orchestras,
not from melodious instruments,
not from upbeat songs, not from classical & jazz—
but from your voice catching patches of air
speaking dullness of words,
inhaling the aliveness of the universe,
trying to say my one syllable name—
trying to grasp the heaviness
of your crumpled bedsheets,
after you've woken up in the morning.

"bedroom voice, in the morning,
silent hush, in the evening,
lovely tone, never-ending."

birds chirping songs we always knew:
leaves falling in green, not in blue—
trees are swaying their body too,
i can't wait to say i love you.

July 06, 2023
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