The Minus Factor
It was time, for my audition - a nice renditition,
I came armed, nothing too predictable, with ammunition;
this offered my chance for fame, only I was to blame
if I messed up, success meant I would never be the same again.
It was good, I knew by the smile on their faces,
now I waited, standing, while my heart really races;
I knew that one juror may give me a hard time,
playing to the gallery, a mountain I might climb.
The unnecessary hype, weirdly prolonged, was irritating,
I heard the voice: 'You know what . . . . ' , procrastinating,
why can"t he just say if he liked the bloody thing or not?
as though he was on another programme and forgot.
It was tiring, waiting for all their second-guesses,
I need not have worried because I got four yesses.
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