Our Song

He walked outside. He did his chores. The birds did not chirp. The wind did not whistle. It was silent. He had no radio to distract him from his thoughts. So he thought freely. He thought about her. He thought about dancing. He thought about a song. He sang the song. Nobody could here. Not a soul. That was how he liked it. That was when he sang with his heart. That was when he didn't care what he sounded like. That was when he sang their song. Our song.