singing to the stars

I find it in my voice box deep in the dark of my cellar,
at first only a whisper.
It asks for the vast outdoor sky above our small world.
And so,

we go for a walk and talk.
And, at the park, fly a kite, despite it soon being night.

Next to the constellations, it tells me
while sometimes it needs to stretch its legs
it feels good to intermingle in the twinkle of the lights.

I often long for this pause, this starry respite
when I can hear what my voice is looking for.

I hold on tight to the string.

Published by Writing Knights Press, Grand Showcase, 2018

 
Written by Joe Bisicchia on 09/09/18
© 2018 Joe Bisicchia

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night, sky, dark

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