You speak eloquently
calmly, liltingly,
With West Indian precision.
Your island inflection
Is so lovely. Talk to me
About anything . . .
I could listen all day.
Let us resume the conversation
In Heaven.
Unto eternity . . .
Where we shall be perfected.
I can’t forget your voice.
PROMPT # 16: Pick a person, place, or thing you love, and praise it in the most effusive way you can.
CONNECT/HOOK 
There is something about inflection that must touch a deeply primal and somewhat obsessive nerve. It is not the voice per se, it is what somebody does with a voice — for me it is that one Al Green song, when Mark Lanegan goes somewhat deep and growly, and I am sure I could find more examples. I’ve been trying to pinpoint what exactly it is, but at the same time I also enjoy the mystery of it. You made me ramble — I very much enjoyed reading the poem (understated in all the right ways) and the musical accompaniment.
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I am glad you enjoyed this poem.
I am fascinated by accents, and the variety of West Indian accents particularly.
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