Goldfinch60

The Best Opera in the World.

We sat in front of the empty stage,

Just a piano sitting on it,

And a table with tea and biscuits.

Where was everyone?

Then from behind us came a voice

Asking if this was the place,

And was the man he came to meet here?

He walked to the stage,

Saw the piano and sat at it,

He said he loved the piano

And would we mind if he played.

He played with absolute ease,

And then his voice sailed,

Sailed around the room

Delighting all.

Another voice came from behind

And a beautiful lady walked in,

Walked to the stage.

They knew each other,

Kissed cheeks,

And asked if they had seen the man,

The man that had called them there.

The pianist asked her to sing,

And sing she did.

This wonderful soprano voice

Filled the theatre,

Bringing us to our feet.

Two more voices were heard from behind,

Another wondrous lady

And a big bearded bass,

All were searching for the man.

All had been asked,

Asked to come and sing,

Sing the best opera in the world.

That is when the bickering started,

What was the best opera in the world?

The bickering stopped

When a loud tenor voice

Came from behind,

They knew who it was

Knew his poor reputation.

The voice approached,

Followed by this handsome man.

He too had been asked,

Asked the same question

To attend to sing,

Sing the best opera in the world.

 

 

They each had their favourite,

Each thought theirs was the best.

We were in raptures,

As arias and choruses

Rose from these singers,

These superb singers,

Who treated us to the glory,

The glory that is opera.

In the midst of their climax

A letter was found,

Saying that the person

The person they were to meet

Had died,

And would not be with them

Except in Spirit.

They went silent

Four of the singers sat down in sadness.

The pianist played and sung,

One of the saddest of all songs

Came from his lips,

Tom Bowling floated round the room,

We, I, was in tears,

As were we all.

The audience went silent

Not a sound was heard,

Except this plaintiff singing

And the occasional sob,

Absolute silence reigned

As the song closed.

The singers rose from their sadness

And sang for us again,

Dispelling the torpor

With the glory of opera once more.

We cheered,

We applauded as these five musicians ended,

Ended a marvellous afternoon,

An afternoon of humour and sadness,

But most of all an afternoon

Of such wonderful singing.

Singing for us,

Singing for all,

Singing the best opera in the world.