The (Next) First Time



The first time that I heard that voice
it caught me by surprise, I think.
Perhaps how it was carried on
the lilt of an infectious laugh
I did not know. Guess I needed to.

The next time that I heard that voice
I tried looking it in the eyes.
This is not an act I practice
too often, but this voice asked me
if I would. Guess we needed to.

All the times that I heard that voice,
it felt to me just like the first.
It spoke to me in more than words,
it asked me in, pushed me away.
Voice’s choice. ‘Cause it needed to. 

But what if there’s no next first time
that voice my old life surprises,
no more to grace these old deaf ears?
We’ll speak with more than our voices.
Hearts speak heart, we just needed two.

Day 5's poem was written at 5:30 AM on Day 6. I'll call it Day 5 still because dawn had not yet broken. This is kind of like old times for me, writing poems in my near sleep/not quite awake time. The difference is I actually got up and wrote it for the first time in years. Now on to Day 6...ON Day 6.

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