On days when tiredness stymies memory,
I do not tax my brain- it is unwise.
I focus on the rudimentary,
The fundamental on which work relies.

And when my voice is tired, I must respect
Its limitations, even though I chafe
To sing full-voiced, I know that to protect
The instrument means shunning the unsafe.

But when I’m hoarse and tired, those double wrongs
Combine to make an exponential right,
Because I know a lot of three-chord songs
Whose range is such that don’t have to fight.

I find it fun to have a brief affair
With singing when I sound a bit like Cher.