A song is an innate voice in every human heart.
It whispers; it yawns; it screams; it groans
It is a song of joy, a song of boredom,
a song of anger, a song of pain or endless sighs
or complaints; and often, it is a song
of love, lingering and seeking for attention.
Every song in the human heart
is an endless composition - an incomplete
creation, on its long process to perfection.
The chosen words maybe wrong as they sound,
and may need to be erased or rephrased;
and every heart where a song springs from
must see to it that its song has its own tempo,
its notes, beat and pulse, its key and measure
and many more... for the song to have its soul.
Every heart sings a song incomplete
until it is sung to the beloved, until it is
heard and received by the one to whom
the song is originally dedicated.
(Response to the 97th title challenge of Richard Gildea )
(first poem in 2019)