Recite my name

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Memory of you uttering this name,

In vernacular, is like a bag of warm rock salt...On an aching unpleasant bruised bump.

That voice of yours feels like sleeping on my father's barely there paunch, after a fitful sobbing lured by a thorn lodged in my foot while playing in the yard.

That vibration itself, drowns these demonic noises in my head that stir up disconcerting chaos that threatens me.

The recollection of your articulation is like a mother's tender caring hand touching her child's forehead gently and lovingly.

The sheer pronunciation is as clear as ringing of bells in the temple, immersing all the undesirable sounds around.

Your enunciation, the most pacifying music that falls on my ears which transports to a carefree dimension.

Your tone is as gorgeous as the Sakura flower that blooms on a warm spring morning, signaling the end of winter's drudgery.

This recapture peregrinates as the cool lemonade on a hot summer day, quenching my thirst as it traverses down the throat.

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