A thousand sounds, one thousand voices

Rip at our ears and minds, compete for our attention

Contend for our recognition, craving our allegiance.

Their flowing wavy fingers

Some angular and jagged, tearing and jeering at us

Others cursive and rounded, whisper beguilingly

Caressing our eardrums, seducing our senses

Yet at the sound of your voice

All others fade away, receding instantly into silence

And all that is left is you...

Touch me with your soft hands

And smile, make sweet love to my eyes

Let your long, slender fingers play with my ears

And make me forget the lies I am daily told.

Say that sweet hello

You know, the one that tells me I can make it

That I can be a better man; that I have all it takes.

Look into my eyes...

Can you read the volumes written therein?

The poetic chapters on love, light, faith and friendship;

Desire and devotion... gratitude.

Hold my hand and let our radiances combine and

Our souls relate in an unspoken tongue.

I will draw you close to me, that Body may mimic, if only imperfectly,

The matchless, inimitable dance of Spirit.

There is no barrier here. This flesh is only a frustrating illusion

For we are one, and neither alone is whole

MAYBE

Like interlocking fingers
To be one with you
And Like a symphony
To be a beautiful intricate harmony
Yet I wonder
Perhaps hands would rather warm themselves
Than lock in conflict of norm
And perhaps unison is the preferred arrangement
Of so small a choir of one.
Are these touches flippant merely?
These fleeting affectionate strokes so blissful
Caresses of vision broken by the slow flutter
Of smiling embarrassed lashes and flushed cheeks…
Raise my umbrella.
From this raining misgiving,
Shelter me.
Dodging now then jumping again playfully
In mucky puddles of unjustifiable fantasy
Till I find the sun from within
To soak me in the courage
To disperse this fluctuating uncertainty
And discover what may never be.


Toye ‘lanrewaju