When your voice is like rain

The sky is a single brushstroke
of aquamarine 
Though many voices speak

Yours is like amber
Yours is like saffron
yellowing my tongue of spice

Even above glass floor 
the wind sweeping the leaves in
tiny islands  

Yours is like violin
Yours is like bow
piercing 
clouds
streak of fire,
veins careening open
pupils dilating in rushing tide

catching me
in autumn's early shroud 
How can I forget your voice?
You ripple all my memories
like whispering birds with nowhere to hide
you
who fly with them

you
who always come back with bluest of plums

Many voices speak.*
Through them all
I hear only yours
falling as a night rain.

     
Inspiration and lines from Karin Boye:   Many Voices Speak

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Sunday's Challenge:  Swedish Poetry hosted by Bjorn Rudberg - We are writing to the poems by Swedish writer Karin Boye

and Poets United

Picture credit:   here