Monday, February 28, 2005

My last hours as thirty-something...

Can you hear this song
the notes rising and falling
with the strength of my breath?
Don't listen to the words,
hear the music of my voice
hear the Beethoven of my heart,
let the notes of my voice--
and now your voice, joining in
--rise and fall in unison
as we read the words from the page.

Perhaps the unison won't be perfect;
you have a country accent
handed down on your mother's side
(the way your vowels twang at the ends of words).
but our different timbres make a string
section, and we are richer for it, and the words
richer for our voices.

It doesn't matter what we say
as long as we say it together.

5 comments:

H. W. Alexy said...

Yup, the perfect poem, the song goes on and it's not a solo.

Happy Birthday, RT.

paula said...

Happy Birthday, RT. Waiting for you on IM for pulling your ears ( ol' Italian tradition!) and very nice and meaningful poem.

some tens of hugs...Paula

Aisha said...

Oh yessss! the Beeth of your heart ;)

and that twang -- country quebecois...yours more city French? because love is in French, FINANCES IN enGLISH WITH YOU TWO, I know THAT much.

Aisha
hOPE MY MESSAGE ON YUOR ANSWER PHONE GOT THRU.
sTILL DUNNO HOW TO DO im AND CHAT AND ALL THAT.
cAN'T TYPE FAST AND CORRECTLY ENUFF AS YOU KNOW

portuguesa nova said...

Happy Birthday!!

Peter Garner said...

Thanks, all, for your birthday wishes. I had a GREAT day, thanks in no small part to all of you.

RT