Why are you surprised my friend
That when alone, I sing?
Or, on imagination’s
Wings, I do often swing?
Let me tell you verily
Why I don’t sing for you,
Nor for anybody else.
Yes, this reason is true.
I am too conscious that what
I sing is not a song.
I know that my lyrics are
Jumbled, disordered, wrong.
My songs may be poor but are
Simply so dear to me.
For a few moments they take
Away my agony.
When I write or sing my songs,
I do in fact so feel
That while humming, my soul wounds
Slowly but surely heal.
I hope it’s now clear to you
Why to my songs I cling.
They truly comfort my soul,
The reason why I sing.
• Written in abcb, 7-6-7-6 format
• Honorable Mention award in the “Inspirations” contest, "Invalid Item" , 7th Round, August 2008, hosted by destinydances.
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