He seems perfect,

but I know he is not.

His eyes—

like glittering pools

of perfection.

His smile:

gentle and kind.

Then he opens his mouth

and pours out the

voice of an angel.

Such a perfect voice

like A Robin emerging

after Winter’s day

and voicing its joy

for the newly arrived Spring.

A voice as calming

as a stream trickling

through the quiet evergreen forest.

Paradise’s voice

that ignites a spark

so bright and vibrant

in my mortal heart.

My fingers ache

to run through his hair,

to trace the black hole

that produces the angel’s sound.

His eyes meet mine,

the fierce concentration gone,

the angel silenced.

We whisper hellos

softly, quietly.

What next?

and the dream fades…

Finis