When your Song is Sung

adult backlit black and white boy
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

When your Song is Sung

I love to hear you sing:
I do.
To chant, descant and swing.
The passions that you bring imbue
Your song in ways that precious few
Can match in verve and zing.
Vibrato, such a soft tattoo,
Your vocal chords a pulsing string,
Your very breath is quivering
Your larynx and your lung.

I love to hear you sing:
So true.
You give the words such spring.
But when they’re done, you wing anew
With dum-de-dum and baby-ooh,
When absence should be king.
It’s time to let your bandmates through;
Your vain ad-libs and tourettes sting,
When all they add is smothering.
I beg you, bite your tongue.

 

 

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