Fourth time
Although the journey was fine
Although I had to run
Like a sprinter across
Manchester Piccadilly
And had to almost leap
Across the escalators
To get to the train
My health wasn’t.

My chest wasn’t fine
And kept rattling
Every time I breathed
Too sharply
Passing through
Salford Crescent
And my eyes
Kept running like
A river.

My nerves weren’t fine
Re-reading my pieces
And by the time
I got onto the stage
At the festival
After watching acts
Which varied in quality
My coughing wasn’t fine
Getting slowly and slowly worse
Over each piece

And the exhaustion
From the previous day
Left me shaking
Somewhat on stage
Left me feeling anything
But fine.

I lost my voice
During the fourth piece
Which I had delivered
To such stirring effect
On the Saturday
But sounded tired
And forced
When I had to start again,

Roaring on in almost
total silence
almost glad you had
got stuck
getting on the train
and missed the gig totally.
 
 

(Fourth in a ongoing series)