The local pub burned down today.
There’s no more karaoke.
I know there’s many who would say
the practice is quite hokey.
But those who lift their voice in song
once every Thursday night
don’t really care if notes are wrong,
as long as they sound right.
And all their friends were there to cheer
as if they were a star.
But now there’s ashes on the floor
and no roof on the bar.
And so it goes, the sound of voices
longing in charred wood.
Often times the tunes were bad,
yet the intentions good.