Sweetheart I Yearn For Your Voice Poem by Aimanu B. Ali

Sweetheart it's been long
since we last talked.
I yearn for your voice
ringing in my ears now
like the sound of the
distant church bell
on the slope of the mountain
now spreading
in the evening breeze thinner.
The moon is above the hill
in the far east
a big silver dinner plate shining,
I see your face on it
your eyes looking
straight into mine.
What do I see in them?
Obliteration of the love
held so dear to the heart.
In the air the sweet aroma
of incense burning
in the temple nearby.
Yours is still lingering
in my nose
like the smell of perfume
hanging for seconds
in the air when
someone passes you by
in the crowd.
If looking at the moon
in another part my dearest
you too are enamoured
by the same flame
then know it
I am all yours inseparable,
your bell, aroma rooted in me.
But if my love
no long effulgent to you
like the old lighthouse
to the ship in the winter mist
your roving eyes scan the horizon
for the contour of another island
I want you to know only this
you'll never see me
singing a dirge,
the light of my love will guide
another ship safely
to my harbour.