to your voice beyond singing—living each
lyric—your music caressing each word
you breathe. Image to you, I sense, can reach
deeper than heartbeat. That near moan I heard,
that longing to dwell on endless picture
of a perfect day, that wish to put it
in a frame, I understand. I’d capture
fragile colors of your songs, deposit
their gentle hues in eyes of this old earth’s
each newborn child, had I higher powers.
Strolling with my daughter tonight—love worth
more than all mankind’s lotteries—showers
moving in, I heed echoes: how you
feel,
and paint, like you belong to
something real.
Roger Armbrust
May 29, 2013
