Death over a Silver Microphone

There is my stage and the unknown crowd,

Clamour and courage debating aloud..

A steady cascade in deepening shades,

An evening bathed in glory unbound..



Slowly I walk to the central device,

A silver microphone misplaced just twice..

A foreign tongue of the songs I've sung

Play in my head, suave and precise..



I look for a single pair of eyes,

My muse is hidden amidst gasps and cries..

Despair and gloom flow through the room

Until she appears, a casual surmise..



A dancing girl and maybe two,

Walk up from behind in a velvet hue..

Kisses on the cheek, one bold, one meek

And the songs are now overdue..



A practiced gruffness comes first

Difficult it seems but never the worst..

The tune is alive, I shall survive

With passionate tones still thinly versed..



A shiver slowly gropes up my spine,

A measured tremble of a strange design..

The air's gone thin, I must begin

But the stars, they refuse to calmly re-align..



An open mouth but without the sound,

Heaving breath and silence all around..

Leaning on air and wheezing in despair,

A hammer's slice to the chest astounds..



I orbit myself into an unlikely daze,

I fall to the floor in three different ways..

"The end is nigh," I whisper with a sigh

I still must end with all glory ablaze..



Lying in a heap, still all alone,

A song on my lips edging out like a groan..

Death is here and is spendidly near

As I fade over a silver microphone..