Your Sweet Voice

Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night,
Though I might lie awake for the sake of listening to you;
Your melody is so true, carried by wind neath blue skies,
And try as I may I cannot find any finer sound
In all of this world into which I’ve been hurled,
And you delight in serenading me with light songs of joy
That arise from the depths of your golden heart of love
And rise above the cacophony of too-ordinary existence
With an innate insistence on making my own soul happy
Yes . . .
Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night

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