Feel A Kiss That Waxes As It Sings Its Song Poem by Mark Heathcote

When a song calls
whispers and enthrals.
Ask who this alluring figure is,
who with forefinger on pursed lips?
Utter shhhh… her Holy Scriptures
oh, Angel of the apocalypse.
Should you lead me into silence?
Like a stream, without words.
Should I follow you like a diamond stylus?
What music would be revealed and heard?

When a song calls
whispers and enthrals, ooh…
when the air tingles radioactive
as you've just forgotten to breathe.
As you are touched by a kiss that waxes
will you, will you, will you hold me.
When I tiptoe, out on a frozen lake
dead of midnight will you hold me?
Will you cradle me afloat? In a song
that drifts sleepwalking, like snow opaque.

When that soft song calls
whispers and enthrals.
Oh, Angel of the apocalypse.
Who with forefinger on her blue pursed lips
utter shhhh… shhhh…. her Holy Scriptures
will you please submerge me?
And here send me out with just-
one-more angelic good nights kiss?
Let me hear the music diamond in a stylus.
Before the ice—breaks on a bed of dreams.