You want to sing but keep yourself from singing,
embarrassed that through walls you would be heard,
so songs that to the neighbors could be winging
get their wings clipped, each one a flightless bird.
You’ve heard your building’s neighbors, and you fear
that they might hear your lively singing too,
so you’ve not given songs for them to hear,
and they may never hear a song from you.
But on the busy street where you are living,
full of the drone of buses, trucks, and cars,
a song is something good you could be giving,
performing live, like pop or opera stars.
Don’t clip the wings of songs, deprived of flight:
they may, when heard through walls, confer delight.
Mario A. Pita