All Night Blues

I’ve heard his voice,
roughed up
by the lyrics of living,
sung out and sweating
between sets;
taking a smoke
and slugging a beer
to soothe his weary chords.

I’ve seen his tears,
of estimation
for other singers’
sadness sounding
in the night;
moving him in a way
no woman can.

I’ve felt him,
alone in the dark,
almost patient
for a sleep
that does not come.

If I could quiet his thoughts
With touch,

If I could hush his worries
With honey,

I would.