Sing

So she took him to bed that night

But not like a child

Some would say she made a man out of him

And in the morning she didn’t feel like any less of a woman

Coz he was singing her praises

More whispering to be honest

And he whispered in the morning again

And again

And again

And again

And then

the song changed

He stopped whispering and started talking

Then he started demanding

Maybe he was a man now so he needed more

And she gave more of herself

And he took more

Again

And again

And again

The signing had stopped

Maybe she was no longer the woman he needed

But she had made him a man

But she gave more hoping that it was enough

Afterall, if she was any less of a woman it was because she had given it to him

And he was still here

As long as she kept giving

Maybe she didn’t need the song as long as he was there. She kept giving….

Then she heard the song

He whispered again

And again

And again

Oh so familiar, so sweet

But why was it coming from behind the wall?

He was not in here

He was next door, being a man.

But she had made him a man

That was her song

But it was now being whispered to someone else

She had given him all she had all she was

What was she now

‘Coz to everyone else he was now a man

Didn’t they see that he had to take from somewhere to be the man they called him?

That he had to take from someone?

That that someone or now something….. was her.

That was her song

She gave him that song, he took it from her.

It was her praises.

Why was it coming from behind the wall?

And the other wall?

And from downstairs?

And from everywhere but where it belonged?

With her.

*Where has our song gone? God made us who we are. But is our song heard behind the wall. Is it heard at all. Even after all He has given us? Have we taken Him for granted and even worse praised others instead.*

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