He sang a tenor’s part-

No more a tenor really

Though aging cords may gamely try

It was disaster- nearly.



He lost the lyric line.

Poor fellow –must be blasted

Too much North Fork wine

Or maybe he’s just past it.



A singer lost for words

is clearly up against it.

A staircase that’s collapsing

can only be descended.



Some forty years or more have past

Since he sang at their Wedding

A rose cheeked boy with strong clear tones

He was, then, worth the hearing.



With time his talent vanishes

He cannot compensate

For lyrics he’s forgotten

And notes he cannot make.



His hopes to leave on a better note

Then disappeared completely,

Only a swan- at its last-

can be sure to sing more sweetly.