DOM VICTOR'S TALES

Going Bass

Last year into the world I went,
To soothe its years with song.
But I feared the effort spent.
The fire would soon be gone.

Each practice was a climb so tough,
To scale a pitch so high.
Each song I sang a task so rough.
My throat did itch so dry.

The coming concert looked me in the eye..
“No business with me have you.”
To me it seemed a wave so high,
My dreams it sure would chew.

Then went on, the times so rude,
And came the final hour.
On stage, a frozen lamb I stood.
It sure left memories sour.

But freeze did then the earlier times
As if they never were.
And tread did I on deeper lines
That home my dreams would steer.