Sing For Me A Song

Sing for me a song
A very old-stale song
That even in my nimble days
I couldn’t dare to miss in haste
As we scramble over pies and morning milk
As we stand a hundred of miles
Listening to echoes of blabbing tunes
That faint rhythm of mother goose
Whose lines where more to me than fun.



Sing for me a song
Whose me melody rings a bell in Wales
But still to my wildest of mares
I now hardly cling to its simplest phrase
With which we ate our biscuits in glee
On the green meadow and on boulevards
Which leads to our old-aging school
Could you murmur that tune for me?
A song I’ve longed to hear.

by Martins Akhoeneto

Comments (3)

Kathryn...You surely are a survivor. I can't begin to imagine what you have been through, but please, stay tough! Barry is right...you have those you love with you, and that's what counts. Hugs, dee
I responded with 'Fire Back! ' Hope you like this as much as I enjoyed (although, maybe not the right word) ... appreciated - - - what you wrote!
This is so personal, and I feel as if I am intruding on such a contemplation, very sad, very profound, but yet you are a survivor, now this in itself can show true strength and a way forward Love Duncan X