her remaining whispers

I’m ensconced by her uplifting lilt 

I notice her mellifluous cadence 

Lifting the sunrise on that glorious morning 

I’m a spectator to hours of her harmonious ballads 

Her lyrical honesty is allergic to mendacity 

I’m a novice in her native tongue 

but I use it as my daily affirmation 

Reciting it with confidence 

I repeat every verse 

Until I’ve study her melody

By the time I hear the crescendo 

Her soprano voice loses its intensity 

Mesmerized, I stop to ponder 

If she drains her passion 

Would the rhythms coursing through her veins

Retain her sweet notes?

So I can study them before she departs 

And compose a melody in her memory?

Evening strikes and I begin my verses with conviction

But I never lose concentration 

Because her voice remains in whispers