I always wanted to sing!
As a boy, I sang for them,
But I always wanted to sing for me.
Now time is gone,
Not much left…
and I have yet/still to sing,
To tell the world, that I missed
out on,
How much I wanted to sing to it–
still do….
Running out of time, here,
and the song is in my throat.
Join me, just this once, World,
and sing with me,
Sing with me, now, as though
it were yesterday
And I could sing…
and I could still sing.
A Hill resident, the author believes that the appreciation of art should not be influenced by the vagaries or prejudices of biography.
