Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Poetry: TROUBADOUR

A singer once told me
a story
an epic common to our
times
of innercity camaraderie in a
nation still new
of playing stages great and small in
all types of venues
for all types of
impresarios
of wine and song and women
especially two
One who led him down
a coke-lined
path to near destruction
the other with
love forebearing
sharing equally in the
triumphs and the
trials
secret complaints dispatched like
smoke in the
small hours of the night
as beside her he slept the
sleep of the sated
Losing herself for his
redemption
a prelude to even greater
recognition
a second coming for him
to cites great and small
the wine of adulation pouring out
from even those too
young
to know of the early
tempests
the best
saved for his latter years
even if his
gait
isn't quite so
rocksteady
and his voice doesn't
carry quite the same trill
he's a man at peace
living - and loving -
contentedly
till
the next
Show bill

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