Each note, each tone, each solemn word, echoes through the room, into the hall, striking my senses with such comfort. I could sit here, alone, in this room, for hours and hours just listening. It’s not the words, it’s not really the thought of you, it’s the warmth in your voice that soothes me. Comforts me. Your voice embraces me in ways that cannot be transcribed into words. A fairytale of life.
You could add a string quartet, a violin to pacify the soul, maybe even a brash harpsicle, but that simply wouldn't provide any further satisfaction. You’re a melody of thoughts, you’re a note within history, a musical symphony for my ever tired soul.
Entrancing, melodic, the whispers of words caressing my ears, trickling across my skin and into my heart. Strings, being played, a rhythm to raise the beating heart, flows into my world and I'm taken to a place I never thought I’d ever realise. If I knew that I wouldn't be caught, embarrassed, I’d possibly stand and move to your echo. Each word, I’d close my eyes, imagine, then feel until the song reached its end.
Suddenly, from nowhere, the words cease and my eyes open. Standing, placing the wine onto the table, I leave the room walking into the long corridor. Each footstep, ever closer, realising that each second in this world is precious, a melody that should be appreciated before the song ends.
I peer around the doorway, filling my eyes with the person that’s you. A smile escapes. A big, warm, caring smile. My eyes soften. You turn your head, ever so slightly, realising and, at the same time, recognising that I'm there. Shuffling musical paper, possibly manuscripts, finding the one that you need, the words flow from your heart once again.
I could fashion many thoughts, prescribe myself your words every single day, but one must not over indulge perfection. Your face lights the room as you sing, further moments etching themselves into my consciousness, ensuring that my affection always, always, reaches for you.
There are fairy tales, written by many, featured in sonnets across the entire globe, that fathom such tenderness, such emotion, yet not one compares to each moment with you. Listening to you. The words move the room and I, as I kiss your neck, feel each one of them.
Each note, each tone, each solemn word, echoes through the room, into my heart, soothing my senses with such comfort. I walk across the room, where I could stay, with you, for hours and hours just listening. It’s not the words, it’s not really the thought of you, it’s everything about you. Just you. Your presence makes me feel ways that cannot, will never ever, be transcribed into words. Fairy tales can, sometimes, come true.