singing the song

he inhales deeply
hoping lungs last
and hits the final posting note
the note soars on and on
like a stretching fabric
meant for a ballroom
but used on a mountaintop
he can see by the expressions
his audience is pinioned in the middle of the sound
in the pure heart of the sweet vowel
nurtured by years of dues
over a hot piano
in too many smoky rooms of stale air
watching too many sweat stained satin gowns
too much puke to ever go back
here word of mouth has brought him
here he will hold