Printed from WriteWords -

The Voice

by  Brian Aird

Posted: Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Word Count: 63

my naked soul
held in its velvet hand
words flowing, tumbling
resonating into rhyme

the sound of wind and rain;
insistent syllables surging,
mental barriers lifting
opening doors

the creaking of old floorboards
footsteps in the hallway
wisdom whispered at night
finding weaknesses to mend

soft spoken love; a lover's tongue
touching me, healing me
for in that voice,
there is my home