Sing for me, child

Sing for me, child.
For your song is the only respite
from the winters
that are strikingly cold
and from the summers
that the penetratingly hot.

Sing for me, child.
Why have you stopped?
The discordant tune
hummed with unadulterated joy
and childlike benevolence
cradles me in lavish delight.

Sing for me, child.
It's alright to be alone
sometimes - a treeish life
is sedate when tranquility
romances inconspicuous
joys of life

and when the sun is shining
not so bright.