your voice is
snow crunching
beneath my feet
early februrary
and leafs
kart wheeling over
freshly cut grass
late october
your voice
is rain tip toeing
down my bedroom
window in spring
it's a gentle yawn
a tired "I love you"
a fresh *** of coffee
brewing at six
in the morning
your voice
is my xanax
instant comfort
i'll be okay,
as soon as i hear you