little journeys

little journeys here and there
that’s where your spoken words have taken me
secrets long hidden now exposed
thank you for the little truths I didn’t see

that i’ll always be beautiful in your eyes
maybe one day i’ll see it in mine
until then i’ll hear you whisper the words in my ear
till each discovery will ring true in time

good day

today’s not a good day
to write poems about love
today’s just one of those days
when i can’t find anything good to speak of

until i hear the sound of your voice
recognize that familiar laugh
and feel the hint of a smile on my lips
your words like fading ink on a photograph

suddenly i’m writing this down
reminding myself to never forget
how your voice soothed the ache in my soul
and quieted every regret

i’ll be happy again, don’t you worry
this deep sadness will eventually pass
just keep talking to me, don’t ever stop
even though we both know this will never last

maybe

i sometimes feel things too deeply
though there are days i barely notice the sun

too lost in my own emotions
tangled in regrets of things done… and not done

maybe one day i’ll learn to move on
maybe the time will come when i’ll have no choice

but to walk away from the lies you keep saying
maybe then i’ll find my voice

Open Mic

What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?

openmic

I’ve got a face for radio, that’s what someone once said to me once, and it’s stuck ever since.  For how can you forget something like that?   My friends talked me into applying for Cathay Pacific one time, only because they were, and I was going with them to the first interview – which wasn’t really an interview because they were looking for girls (we were all 17 then) who were either tall and beautiful (a plus if you were both) – of which I was neither.  So while they made it to the second round, where this time you actually got to talk to someone, I was dismissed with just a glance from head to foot for I had neither the height they required, nor the beauty they wanted to walk the aisles of their planes.

But what I did have, and still do to an extent, is my voice.  I’m not a singer, and I can’t hold a tune.  But I have a voice that can give you the news, tell you a story, or just narrate something.  I first realized I had a voice someone actually wanted to hear when the local hip radio station hired me to do the news for them.  Sometimes I did commercials, which paid more.

These days, my voice is limited to family, my clients and my students.  Most of all, to my little boy.  I love it when he tells me, read me this book, mama. And I tell him stories about Thomas the tank engine, and his friends, or of Sam I am and how he doesn’t green eggs and ham.  Or just go chika chika boom boom just because it sounds so funny.

Sometimes I wonder if he thinks me beautiful, but really I know it doesn’t matter.  I’d like him to remember my voice and about how my voice can tell show him just how much I love him, cherish him, wish I could be with him forever and watch over him.  My looks are fading, and so is my voice, growing lower with each passing year.  But till the end of my days, as long as I’m able, I’ll always be there to tell him the stories he wants to hear – even of a creature named Sam, and about how he doesn’t like green eggs and ham.

Daily Prompt