Ava Johnson ’29
I pray for a blessed chance to hear you
I pay attention to the enumeration of your words
I count each vibration of your phonics
A hum of your voice smooths me
Slowly touching my skin
The direct contact by a perk when you say a
The pulling tension of your ‘e’
The iteration of my name running from your tongue
A calming sensation follows
The softness and care in your divine voice
The repetition of your hidden chuckle throughout the air
The refraction of your voice tears the futile sounds
Your voice echoes in my hair strands
Your sound is pounding towards me
Nothing else matters when I hear you
Call my name, and I shall come.
There is such devotion towards your soul
For no rational or counting reason
No logical report as to why I pledge my admiration for you
But, I beg, call my name