Shifting moods and a flood of light,
bringing him into singularity; all focus
belongs to the handsome Lothario.
Musical mates fade bringing him upstage.
Head hung; chin to chest - at best he
meditates. A sigh and a raised eye brow
show his depth. A last breath and a note;
long and drawn, his song begins. At times
he is lost in the moment; others, he chuckles
and grins, catching the glances of the
enraptured nymph lost in his gaze.
Ballads were made for such seduction.
They are alone now in a sea of hushed gasps
and fawned stares. The words become clear
and he has this innate fear his voice will
go away, leaving him merely a face with no traces
of ability. He has this fight every evening.
But gilded looks are deceiving. Pretty boys can be
refaced; front men can be replaced.
© JPW 2013
Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer - Prompt # 235 - "Front" poem
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