closing the door behind me

some sensation stopped me at the top of the stairs:
the desire to hear your voice.

i had not really heard you speak in some time.
I could barely remember how you sounded.

i sat down 9 stairs up from your floor
just around the turn and out of sight.

and i channelled my focus to find your frequency
hoping for your vocabulary to guide me down the trail
of your undulations and your articulations

But the downstairs tennants were much too loud;
a welcoming party of ecstatic voices being.
reunited with the voices of their fellow countrymen.

Their foreign syllables mixed with the others from your apartment
and the softness that permeates your voice was mixed evenly into the other
boisterous sounds.

I moved down the stairs as quietly as possible
and seeing your door ajar
i listened from my new post

but only my roomates were audible,
their masculine sounds fighting the foreign ones out in our open stairwell.

As the foreigners disappeared behind their doors
The front door clicked open
swinging heavily and loudly.
Feet pounding the lowerstaircase
caused me to make my way across the hall
and down passed your rommate ascending.

I stopped once I had heard the door close behind her
one final attempt to hear if you were speaking.
But the foreigners were regaling each other in the mudroom
exchanging sentiments and bottles of wine.

The door opened easily and the snow had quieted the night
stepping outside into a silence that brings everything
but the sound of your voice.