The voice

Woman whom I loved once,
now you call me, tell me
that you have changed through the years.

Can it really be you, you who were really lovely?
In the picture, that I have in my head
with an angelic smile, big green eyes with brown spots
you look even more pretty than before?

Or is it only in my mind that I still see you
or a nightly dream that you are in
or a apparition walking in my garden
in the early morning fog?

l’Envoi
Thus I stumble forward
as if in a dream, seeing the morning glories opening
and everything looks so much like spring
and the early morning air brings your scent to me
and somehow I know that the voice that I hear
is really yours and sincere.
.
[Reference: The Voice by Thomas Hardy.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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