March 25, 2010

My lady with a saxophone

She stands there
A part of an ensemble,
A lot of four,
A violin and a keyboard
A drum set and a singer.
A saxophone,
Held up nervously,
Unsure fingers on unsure keys.
“My first concert,”
She thinks
With a wry smile
Lost to the audience.
The light does not dim,
For this is no theater,
There is no gentle applause
A prologue to the event.
Their stage is meager,
A roadside corner,
Their audience sparse,
Me and the walker-bys.
For a moment,
her worlds stops
As the sax moves to her lips,
In slow motion
Her movement
Like a guided waterfall. First a note – a drop
Followed by a trickle
Then a torrent,
I cannot see the notes,
Yet I am blinded by the music.
Soon she is done,
They pack and move.
I am left standing there
Still listening to
My lady with a sax.


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