Your voice was always hushed,
like a cembalo or harp.
A drawing room sound,
muted yet sweetly attractive.

Your eyes were hazel soft,
distorted through thick lenses.
Makeup covered your acne scars
and shy Diana smile.

You were my only friend
in that Teachers' College world
of beehives and pale pink lips
and repetitive, mindless assignments.

They called us the two Alisons.
We did everything together -
seated snugly side by side
in the black cheeked baby Austin.

We both left college hurriedly.
I to chase greasepaint
and audience applause.
You to join young Bob (too hastily)

in an awful wedding
that produced (too soon)
a pair of raw boned boys
and years of disappointment.

At the reunion, I didn't recognize
the heavy matron
shambling toward me
blind, with stick in hand.

But when I heard your voice,
still soft and whisper quiet,
the veil of forty years was lifted
and tears welled in my eyes...

Alison Cassidy

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-voice-10/