Sing Low


Time changes everything

Going on the premise

That there was in fact

A special designated

Place in which time

Would unfold like

A folded napkin

That was white

And clean and ready

For the spoils,I sat

Alone with life thinking

Why I sang for my father

And he never acknowledge

Me,even when in the eyes of

Life my voice as the napkin

was perfectly in tune and

Clean for listening,as I sat

with my eyes closed and I could

See his finger pointing and

His loud voice exclaiming

“You” as I shrank into a pool

As the demise of the wicked

Son that I was,in his eyes

I would not be able to sing

Much less carry a tune


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