I found this amazing.
There’s one little lark you never see,
He sits high up in the tree.
His body is scrunched against the trunk,
and in the shadows he tries to duck.
This tree is filled with many larks,
who sing from sun up ‘till it’s dark.
Always a new tune they have to hum,
while our lark hides feeling dumb.
Yet our lark contended seems,
in his world of wistful dreams.
Occasionally he does desire to sing.
His voice is inaudible in the perpetual ring.
Unnoticed he is more than happy to be
He can think, even when no one sees.
Sadly, some birds don’t know his ways.
They revel in the noise-filled haze.
“Sing!” say they to our lark accusatorily.
“You must express yourself orally,
we all sing quite loud, quite often
we sing even if we sound rotten.”
Our lark steps back, he is shy
with these demand he wants…
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