What I once thought was
a warm flame focused its heat
into a spotlight.
Blinded by your gaze,
I started this performance
with my face on fire.
Breezing through the void,
I took chances as I sang,
leaping past my fears
to jingle neurons,
to scrape up roots of response.
My breath blew music
from this distant stage:
voice of improbable dreams,
stupid strumming strings.
My song ended flat.
I never knew if your face
smiled or wept from the
blackness of your chair...
how my unseen audience
of one really felt.
Did the words matter?
At least you offered applause.
Spotlight off. Goodbye.
