An innocent child sings
A soft, sweet song.
Not in tune, no rhythm.
But it doesn’t sound wrong.
When she grows,
Those notes are polished.
Sang correctly.
But truth demolished.
A virtual choir is advertised,
Impulsively she participates.
To distract the mind from fear.
At first, she celebrates.
She gleams with positivity,
Optimism, and pride.
But then it’s time to record,
With nobody by her side.
The pressure builds.
Countless blunders.
The notes wobble.
Her pitch wanders.
But then her solo,
Becomes part of a chorus.
A community of singers.
Magical for all of us.
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