sound

It's been a long time since I wrote a poem. We wrote poems in English yesterday. We were instructed to write about something we couldn't live without. I'm not sure this is ready for publication, or even revelation, for that matter. It still felt good to write something. But...have at it.

So much depends upon you, Sound.
You twist my soul into tight French braids-
the kind my mother used to carefully craft upon my head
But you do it with a single utterance.
You aren't white knuckled as she,
Just pleasant and effortless.
You come in all dressed up, ignorant to your beauty
And I'm bound by you, to you.
But I don't feel the tug.
Go on...
Go on, I don't mind.