The Keepsake

You tell me to keep singing,
I am. Without words, there’d be no songs.  I made that.
Listen to my sweet, sweet blues,
my high, high reds, and my low, low browns.
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.

You tell me to keep singing,
And I tell you, I am.  Tell me, what would you like to hear?
Do you want to turn my blues into red, my red into blues,
and for me to have no colours in-between?
To turn me into you?

You tell me to keep singing,
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.