The voice is the melody
The lilting refrain
Rising from the larynx,
Sugar-coated, honeyed and pure saccharine,
Melting ice-bergs, sending a child to sleep
Bringing aching limbs back to life.
Over the airways it would glide
From the other side of the corridor
Almost preternatural, its modulated timbre
Holding me captive; it was mine to keep.
But you can’t touch intangibles,
Or catch them, to be locked
And opened like a music-box.
Overwhelmed, I was emboldened by it;
Next moment I became enslaved by it.
It soon became a ritual; the voice holding court.
Previously benign, it was now hostile and malignant.
I ignored it one night, shutting the door tight.
Now I hear nothing, neither music or noise
Nor the sound of my own cries.
