The Voice, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The VoiceThe Voice, Summer Night, Edvard Munch (1896)

The Voice

Your voice calls to me on this summer night
I hear you but you are out of my sight
Lost, not knowing what direction to go
Now wondering if I will ever know

Like a longing love bird sing out to me
Hide not your body behind any tree
If you are real your song will not stop
And I will search for you until I drop

As if an owl I will take rapid flight
With the thrilling full moon as my search light
I’d ride the soft summer wind ’til you’re found
In but a moment I’d be on the ground

You immediately I shall embrace
Falling gently to a heavenly place
Of our lovers’ bed of deep silky moss
On your heart my initials I’ll emboss

Published by

bobsieczkiewicz

Husband, Father, Grandfather, Lover of all beautiful things. I love to read and write poetry. My favorite hangouts are libraries and museums and yet I love being outdoors. I am a dreamer of things that could be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s