Tuneless

He ran his life as music

Tomorrow allegro ma non troppo

Today full presto

Paying for yesterday’s lento

When work set a melody he loved

He kept the song rolling and breaking

Through meetings and critical calls

To play such sweet flow again and again

An earworm of pleasure rarely recovered

At night alone

If boredom arrived he sharpened his pitch

Flatting the too much mornings

Craving the melodies of sun spilling summer

When he died all played a dirge he disliked

No one knew

The boss never could hold a tune