When I was young, and told to sing, I would.
I would call my voice to share in song
the words of praise I felt for the world.
They would say-
You are shouting, not singing
They would say-
You are on the wrong note or singing the wrong part.
So I stopped singing.
The hymns of praise for the world I love so much fell silent.
Now, much older and a bit wiser (I hope)
my songs spill from my pen
written in poetry
where there is no wrong part and never a note missed.
My song, this time my own, can be shouted or whispered
and it will never be wrong or silenced again.
blue sky infinite 
It reminds me of when my son was about 2 or 3. I used to sing him to sleep and he enjoyed it, so I must have been pretty good. However, on a weekend with his grandmother when she tried the same tactic, he held his little hand over her mouth and whispered, “No, Maga, no sing.” She, too, was silenced.
Thanks for continuing to sing your poems.
Thanks for listening to my songs.