The Residues Of Her Voice Poem by Patrick Carey

O little voice
of temptation
she wells in
my ear.

Her notes were so
lure-ring
sea shell hollow sound.

Conversation opened up
like the first tide
of early morn.

The residues resounding,
this siren calls to me,
I will blindly capsize
upon her shores.

Her lips await in the darkness
beneath the haunting stars,
O be still hush my restless breath
for she has dispersed among the nightly skies.

O little voice
of temptation
became mute
to my ear.