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.