The Voice

Her ears shifted up, it was the voice, there was a rhyme in her heart, it wasn’t that she listened to pure rhythm, it was the way her heart reacted, there was an ease in her stride, even if she walked in the dark, she couldn’t see, so she learned to feel emotionally, the senses. Her eyes had never been cast upon envy as the eyes do normally see, they did not see the love that was on parade, it wasn’t that she wasn’t feeling inside, it was the way she expressed herself, the gentle sigh, the call of a bird in the trees, love is never threatening, just brings along a case of sensuous anxiety sometimes, so it was to the voice she was tuned, it was how she dealt with the difficulty of sight, having eyes and being unable to see, being blind while being able to see.

Solomon was remarking on the reaction of a fried, the widening smile, and how easy it was to ad a little sparkle to any life, how the lack of threat was freedom to many, just being able to be oneself, true. There are words we want to put on situations, sometimes we can’t find them, our emotional baggage is too heavy, other times we are afraid to utter them, afraid of the reaction and how it could change something. In the cafe he heard her voice, it wasn’t the conversation, it was the way she blended her smile and words with that voice, amen. It was music for the heart, that voice.

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