My Song

For most of my days
my song was gentle
quiet inoffensive
like leaves in 
autumn beautiful 
but painted with sorrow

years, months
days, turned and turned 
mostly I was 
polite took singing lessons
from appropriately educated men.

When hours started moving
faster in order to remain 
Singing very Loud and Long

enough to hear my own Voice.
In the winter of days,
I finally began 
to write the song
for myself.

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