Folk Music

The songs are crying
murmuring weeping praying
and I listen
to their tones
rising and falling
melodies unfolding
tensions releasing 
in my mind's memory
where no one else can hear
they plead with me
to play them
sing them
but I won't 
because I did 
have done
many times
too many times
over and over
and I know if I start
they will flood my mind
echoing repeating
and over
on and on
their words
inevitable words
unfolding their story
then starting 
all over again
but I won't
I did and I have
and I won't
and my violin
can stay in its case
and my guitar
can stay on its stand
I won't sing you
I won't sing you
you can go round 
and round
and round 
and round
I won't sing you