Hiding the Soul's Hesitant Songs

Silence but for my singing soul
and the seeping of river’s flow.
I hope not to be overheard;
my voice isn’t tuned like the birds
and you might hear my hearts mourning.
with bleeding ink, my mind is dawning
that I’m not alone in this place
and so I climb a tree to hide my face
but prying eyes seem to give chase,
mocking my voice’s sad disgrace.

I decide to sing loud and clear,
not caring if others can hear
for my voice overpowers the hush
of blown leaves and the waters gush
which makes the seconds seem to last
Wwth contemplating of my past
until a unison of song
with delicate birds rid my wrong.
The seconds passing not so long
with songs of joy now on my tongue.