I wish the lips on wind
Could tell you what your voice
Does to me, my heart, soul and body
How much of a butter it turns me
And as sizzling as a morning coffee
Your voice makes me feel as though
A slave and his master
A Queen and her king
And a servant and his lord
I wish this poem could paint
Out the stardust feeling I have
For your voice
It comes to me on it’s own
Without a body, heart or a soul
And make me bow down to it
Like the mountains bow down to thunders
I wish I could have the right
Similes, metaphors or even the onomatopoeia
That could voice out how my soul
Worships your voice, like a temple and its saint
That voice coming with the gift of sleepiness
And a touch of huskiness and calmness
I’ll sacrifice my breath for
Aisha U. Faruk
Aisha had never beli
