I miss the way my voice sounds when I sing

I miss the way my voice sang of springtime,

and the love of a prince to a princess he has not met,

and the roses, and the lips that were roses.

I miss the way my voice sang in tongues,

and the silliness of a man and his reflection,

and the beauty of the world, and I love yous, I love yous.

I miss the way my voice sang in hymns,

and His world was my world, and I'd rejoice;

but smite me, watchman, for I am now beside myself.

I miss the way my voice sang of life,

and the surges of emotions I felt as I became

a free spirit in the wonder that was music.

I miss the way my voice sounds when I sing;

for right now, I do not hear it in the same light.

I miss the way my voice would clearly ring,

and the only voice I hear is the one silenced by night.

-LJ

28 January 2017