Song Unsung

I long to hear that musical refrain

That I now know, I will never hear.

For he, who was to write it

Let other things in his day fill

His time.

Always, he had a reason

Or was it an excuse?

To dismiss that prevalent chord

That wove itself intermittently through

All his thoughts and

Most of his words.

It oppresses me night and day

It does.

That song I'll never hear nor sing,

My eyes will never see that

Written music note

Nor will my hands ever produce

Its sound upon the piano keys.

For buried way beneath the soil

He lays.

The would be writer of that

Unsung tune.

I hope in peace that he does rest,

But for those of us that remain

Will ever be that unknowing feeling

The haunting of that

Unsung, unwritten, unplayed

Refrain.

(chords in A minor, sound tormentingly in background)

(teardrops slide down my face)

Silence

Thought :  How heavy the weight upon each of our shoulders, to accomplish, each day those things that have been given unto us to do. In thinking, our task is a minor one, or insignificant, or unimportant, we may neglect a work that is imparted unto us as a gift. If one neglects the duties and responsibilities of his own gift, then not only has he cheated himself, but, who knows how many others he has also cheated.

Leah © 2005