The Melody Within

By Medha Koundinya

Wendy was the youngest of the crows,
The quietest of them all.
Ignored and never noticed,
Always in a corner, meek and small.

She wished she were bold and strong,
That she could sing like her sisters could.
But alas, her voice was too weak and feeble,
And not at all that good.

That night, everyone sat together,
For it was the annual talent night.
Some skipped, and some pranced;
Truly, it was a breathtaking sight.

When it was Wendy's turn to sing,
She slowly got up, all wobbly and weak.
Mustering up some courage, she opened her mouth,
But all she could manage was a tiny little squeak.

Embarrassed, she ran and ran,
Vowing to never show her face,
For she was much too humiliated
And wanted to stay hidden always.

She stopped to catch her breath,
She stumbled and sat down.
She thought about everything
And how she had looked like a clown.

A thought crept up...
And she began to think...
"What if, for myself,
For myself alone, I sing?"

So, with no one listening,
She sang with neither fear nor stress.
This time, she sang just for herself,
Not to show off, not to impress.

Her feeble voice soared high
All she had to do was start.
It was truly beautiful,
Because it came from her heart.

As she sang, Wendy felt
A joy she had never felt before.
For she was singing for herself
And no one else, not anymore.

And that night, Wendy realised a simple truth:
It didn't matter what others thought or knew.
It's not the applause or approval of others;
True fulfilment comes from being you.