On those cold lonely nights when the world was asleep,
I spoke to my lover.
Her voice, an alto, always calmed my spirit.
For when she spoke, I knew for sure, I was home.
Her voice was like an opera song quietly playing in the background while you rock the baby to sleep
The one with the lady singing her heart out about the first time she smelt a rose.

My lover's voice never changed.

When she was sad, 
Her voice was the cloudy afternoon sky in July
The one that made you worried that it would rain
Because you had made plans with your friends
But, you were still relieved because for once
The sun wouldn't burn so brightly on the balding part of your head. 

When she was angry,
Her voice was the hailstorm that fell with roaring thunder
And shook the leaves of the large tree in your compound with fear.
But, you were never scared
Because, as a child, you danced in the rain
And you loved the taste of the stones that fell with it.
You enjoyed sliding in the mud as you composed cheeky war songs with your best friend
The one whose front teeth had failed to grow back
Because he had laughed at the old lady with a crooked back.

When she was happy,
Ooh! When my lover was happy!
Her voice was a choir of angels in a vast auditorium 
Blending the different tones into one beautiful melody
That raised the hair on your skin and gave you goosebumps
even when it was blazing hot outside
And for a moment, you were a child again
You did not want the music to end 
Because you loved the way the beat rhymed with that of your fragile heart.
And when you looked into her eyes as she spoke,
Her words wove around your body like a cold gentle whisper
Wrapping around you so tight as if to say "till death do us part".

©Maathe