Voices Creeping
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"I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low;
I hear those gentle voices calling . . . "
Quote, Stephen Collins Foster, 1826-1864
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In the hush of night voices come creeping,
they shush and lull me with a silent kiss;
my dream breathes in the quiet of sleeping.
Voices unchain pain 'till I am weeping,
silent, I fall in a deep, dark abyss;
in the hush of night voices come creeping.
I want to speak, to talk at this meeting,
to tell my unvoiced love to swirling mist;
my dream breathes in the quiet of sleeping.
Into my soul the voices come seeping,
I am wandering and do not resist;
in the hush of night voices come creeping.
Wordless as a stone I stand still waiting,
and voices soundless make me reminisce;
my dream breathes in the quiet of sleeping.
I recall each name engraved in writing,
each sweet beloved name on that cold stone list;
in the hush of night voices come creeping,
my dream breathes in the quiet of sleeping.
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December 3, 2018
Poetry/Villanelle/Voices Creeping
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1091-675-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Voices . . .
sponsor, Silent One
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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