Monday, 15 July 2013


I seek, I hunt & I search for that lost & errant voice,
So many places to look, the past has given me choice,
And yet so difficult to find, that voice I call my own,
Bestowed before my birth & one I made mine alone.

Learnt words from babe & the uttered childish sounds,
The tone & pitch I made mine, all told & finally found,
But now I am old & grey & on the old road back home,
I seek my silent old voice, the one I can now call my own.

I search my childhood days, of the gay whoops & joyful glee,
The maidenhood sighs of virginity, finally allowed to be free,
And the words of love whispered in waiting impatient ears?
 Voices all drifted away, on those fast & escaping-gone years.

Where is that joyous cooing, to those babes upon my breast?
And words whispered in church, asking God only to be blessed,
Those words of, “I love you” & the “I do” vowed forever more,
Even those sorry acrid ones, walking out of hard slamming doors.

I search for them all, the soft, hard, good & even the very bad,
But I cannot find my lost old voice & that makes me feel so sad,
Leaving only echoes voiced in silence, in the corridors of my past,
Blown gently on the passing breezes, disappearing away so fast.

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