Addicted To
Your Voice
I talked with you on
the phone,
and when we finished talking,
I held the hushed object
with both my hands
and pressed it tight against my chest—
feeling still connected to you.
My son, my pal of years, my inspiration!
Enthusiastic, witty and kind—
you are everything a mother can wish
for her offspring to be.
I think of how you, then nine, nursed
two baby cardinals, found after the storm
still in their eggs beside the torn nest.
They died… but at least you tried.
I remember the jokes
you brought from school
(that Mary Jane and the dragonfly!)
and the dances you did
to entertain your brother and me.
Everything
was of keen interest to you:
our choosing a new house,
the world events, your friends…
We called you “the third parent”—
you planned to take care
of your younger brother
when you grow up.
You wanted to be a truck driver
and see all the states in the USA…
A software engineer now
and living far away,
you still wish to know
what’s going on at home…
Your voice! So amiable,
comforting, endearing.
Is it a wonder that I think eagerly
of each coming chat with you?
Please, talk much, talk often,
tell me all about yourself—
for news from you,
my heart is endlessly hungry.
