Singing For My Supper (Poetry)

Why did I imagine
I was anything other
than an ordinary mortal
sent out onto the stage
to stutter out my lines
as best I could?

I’m out here on my own
on these bare ungiving boards
and whoever might be listening
in the gods or stalls or gallery
I fear has little patience
for this trickle of small words

Mine is the plain soliloquy
common in vocabulary
to all intents and purposes
I doubt I truly entertain that much

As troubadour I’m out of time
and place so stand as one apart
not of the crowd
not of the pack
but one alone who tries to sing
and catch some king’s forgiving ear
before the curtain falls