by Jeph Johnson
Her lips, a painted-heart-Valentine
echoing with smiles
parting for her voice to dance
up and down the aisles.
We make-believe our stardom
but music can't pretend,
it demonstrates the beauty of song
by way of Alyson.
With passionate precision
she makes the song her own,
enunciating word for word
into the microphone.
Perfume floats through smoky air,
her eyes close to the crowd
while she transforms the Galaxy
into a single sound.
Astonished awes of silence,
suspending bar room noise...
the single sound of elegance
that is known as her voice.