The stage was small, a cozy little scene,
But the music—oh, it was the queen!
A brilliant vocalist took the lead,
Her voice a powerful, soulful steed.
She had been away, they said, for a time,
Battling storms, climbing mountains to climb.
But here she stood, in the spotlight’s glow,
Her voice richer, deeper, a warm alto.
A four-piece band was her loyal crew,
On drums, bass, and piano they flew.
Their notes were tight, yet wildly free,
Crafting waves in a musical sea.
As the night unfolded, guest stars took the stage,
Each one adding a story to the page.
Classic blues and jazz songs filled the air,
Songs of love, of life, of despair.
But it was she, the woman with the mic,
Who held us all in her melodic dike.
Her comeback was not merely a return,
But a lesson in how music can burn.
In the quiet that followed, I felt anew,
How music, like morning, can renew.
And as I walked out into the night,
The stars above seemed to burn more bright.
Ventimental 