If I could sing

9 0 0
                                        

The sound is so soft and sweet like morning tea
It can only be heard in a isolated cottage
The bait leads you into the path of the golden girl
It is resistable
You can't control this uterless feeling
The desire to feel and pour into this warm pool of herbs and water
You want the sweetened tea
But you can't
The voice isn't you
You aren't sticky honey
The song is too good for you
The voice has been on a cold shelve
The song hasn't destroyed your choice
Rather, you have destroyed the choice of your voice

Poems with JasablesWhere stories live. Discover now