Umm

Swirls of thick rich cream, with a hint of chocolate now and then.
Scraping the bottom to savour the last vestiges of what could soon be a fond fading memory, even as greedy hunger gnaws for more.

Words form slow and tentative, strung together in serious quest of elusive thought.
Or clear deliberate, like the moon burning a torch for the late night runner on a mission.
Spoken in earnest, now in jest or even in soft childlike wonder as the gutteral wise man awakens the wide eyed questioning infant, purring in pleasure at a brand new touch.

Sounds of lava flowing - deep, quiet anger. The world turns cold with fear till suddenly, magic stirs. Hear the birds chirping on a thawing green as that precious laughter stumbles out in happy abandon from throaty recesses one yearns to fathom.

That wine drenched tone,
The whispered moan
Is it tender plum, cracked blueberry
Or a ripening radiant red red cherry?

Clinking gold coins, rustling leaves
Or cool waves raging on summer eves?

Bronze, bright, bathed in blue
So familiar, ringing true
And right now
as I think of you

Its orange.

Your voice.

Alive, always. I hear it.