Childhood Haunted by a dream that never rhymes A half sung song. Mothers serving tea, daughters serving lies. Then, came boys. Lifetime Safely kept in father' s trophy case A half lived life. Reading poems and plays, spending time in grace. Then, came truth. I was meant to be sung by someone Other than myself I touch the lips of passing strangers. Now I'm sung on streets Not a soul completes This unfinished song. Night-time Guided by voices in my head I found my way Wondering round for years Sheding silent tears. Then, came he.