Golden Voice

 She sits at the piano,
in the dimly lit bar.
She sings of sorrow;
her fingers playing magic.

The watchers regard her...
they're barely moving.
Her dulcet and poignant tone,
reaching into their guarded hearts.

The voice of an angel;
shining of visage,
she's draped in a gown of shimmering light.
The patrons sink into silence.

Her eyes gaze into the distance.
Her head, held high.
Her pain is everyone's.
No one is untouched by grief.

The song ends and she leaves the stage.
The patrons pause in reflection,
then, finally applaud with abandon.
The show is over, and  the bar empties.

She sits in her room, alone.
She has things to do
 before her night  ends in sleep.
She'll visit the man who gives her
what she needs to get by.

And here she is now,
supine on her bed.
Numbed and serene.
Unicorns and rainbows in her head.

Nobody sings for her.
Nobody ever has.
The beauty with the golden voice...
easing into the night.

©Ellen Pepper 2026