There is something beautiful in the way people talk
The small cracks in their voices, the rhythmic gymnastics the vibrations make
I listen to these sounds when I'm sad
The noises distract
Making it hard to focus on the abstract
Looking at the tacts on the wall
The Facts riddled on the paper
Why the meaningless banter?
Why the softness of tone?
I see your eyes, head bent down--you are lying!
The voice, a bit trickier
Rhyming thicker, ickier, and stickier don't reveal much
So with foreign languages: Portuguese, Latin, or Dutch
The voice is an intricate pattern
Beautiful in color, rich in detail
Different fabrics, hewn in diverse stitches
The pattern gets more complex the closer I look
Rumbles, stumbles, breaks, scratches, rising pitch
All resemble a different stitch
I awake from my distraction
Hear the ticking of the clock
And the pencil smacking the table
I build the courage I can muster
Find my words and begin to sew