Her voice is like the sound of the Flute – velvety smooth, warm, and full, like one glass of fresh creamy milk.
It is like moisturiser to the ears – if there is such a thing – soothing flaky sound waves. I never grew tired of hearing her voice; perhaps I never will.
When She sings, she sings like an angel, like she is the archangel of all the choirs of singing angels. She is worthy to take the Descant parts because there is always a pure and brilliant sound from her mouth. She is that good! I wonder where her brilliance comes from.
“Sing and let your voice ring in your ear,” she told me –she taught me. “That’s how you know that a voice is brilliant – it rings and resonates and fills a whole space.” I voiced out and projected something, alright, but it didn’t sound as good as I wanted it to sound, for I expected to sound like her. There is a sound and a voice from me, but it isn’t exactly milk and honey. It was more like a Mortal Kombat Sindel shrill screech. I am, but a pitiable reduced facsimile of her adroitness.
When her voice cascades in accordance to intricately woven notes, she proves to be the best. When this happens along with her fingers running through ivory keys, she becomes a superlative paragon.
When He, with his natural Tenor voice, joins in the soiree of melodies, a glorious sound emerges! I could only listen… and listen… and listen… and get lost in a harmonic ride. It is always a joy to tag along with such effortless navigation of musical patterns – up and down… uppest up… spin, swirl, and eddy in half-step, whole-step… intervals of three, or four, or five… an octave jump or an almost octave jump…. Weeeee!
I always wonder if milk and honey sound as good as they taste good. The voices of He and She – I wonder whether they have realized it or not, but they were definitely meant to blend, like milk and honey.