A singer wakes and writes

I sing with a small choir and we performed a concert last night. We had a great time and helped raise money for a local good cause. They say write about what you know, so this what I know this morning.

Mark x

Singer wakes.
 
The morning after
the concert before.
The primary thought,
the throat is SORE!
Like swallowed sandpaper
then gargling chilli sauce.
 
Next, that satisfied afterglow
only performers know
of a show well sung
and the memory of applause
hung in the air, as if
invisible cherry blossom.
 
Then, the slow, slow splashdown,
a sense of deflation
as elation dissipates and
the cold air chisels at your resolve.
You’ve slept in, the heating is off
so you do the mental coin flip.
 
Bed wins, so you snuggle in
making yourself hedgehog,
gripping the duvet to keep reality out.
Residual heat keeps you warm as do dreams,
ripe with the promise of the next audience
and their cherry blossom.