Why She Sings

Young girl,
Why do you sing?
Little darling,
Why is it sadness that you bring?
You sing a sad song,
The melody tells of love gone wrong.
Young girl,
Why do you sing?

Precious daughter,
Your song has no reply...
Fairest lady,
Let the tears fall from your eyes...
Just give it a bit of time,
Your chorus matches that of mine.
Young girl,
Why do you sing?

Lovely bella,
Why are you sad?
Fallen angel,
Be happy for the love you had.
Your sorrow will not last,
This broken feeling, I just got past.
Young girl,
Why do you sing?

Why do you sing?
Why do you sing?
There's a harmony that's playing-
That makes Fall seem like Spring.
There's a million hearts exploding-
Making birds take to their wings!
So, oh young girl,
Why is there this sad song that you sing?

This song you sing to me,
I've heard it once before...
'cause I've been heartbroken
And, of that, I am sure.
But I, like this past time,
And my past, so unpure,
Let Time take control
Of the heartache that is yours.

Crying blue eyes,
You'll find other lovers.
Anxious friend,
Take the weight o' the world off your shoulders.
You have strength, let it show
Feel the relief of letting him go.
Young girl,
There is no need to sing.

Young girl,
Is that a new song that you sing?
Have you, like me,
Clipped off painful wings?
Have you taken up Time
To realize unwanted things?
Letting go has become easier than it seemed.

So let the attributes of those we let fly,
Go on their own flightlesss way,
And for some reason why,
Let not our hearts
Sever up those ties
So that all the tears
That we, no doubt, will cry
Be not those of sadness,
But of love that has died,
That will come back to us,
Whether in truth or in try,
To stay with us our days
And continue on after we die.

Your song now is beautiful.
May I hear it again?
The sweet melody of your voice
Melts me down from within...
Your chorus is perfect
Like it, I've never heard
There's new life and new joy
Birthing from every word.
Young girl,
With her chime, rhyme, and ring
It's now easy to see
Why it is that she sings.


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