I've heard your song, but never made you sing.
Like the skittish birds' outside my window,
Your melody inspires me to life,
But ceases when I draw near to admire you.

You know I'd wish that tune were all my own
If only when I heard it, it remained.
That joy I'll never know - which makes you smile,
And me in turn. Keep singing, I'll still listen.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.