Email Poem

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Poem

...a prose poem


Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of 
conversation as the club quickly fills to near capacity. 
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show 
to begin. 

The house lights dim and the stage is spot-lit 
as the musicians take their places. Chatter modulates 
to rapt attention as the first notes drift into the air. 

The band has chosen a ballad, 'My Funny Valentine' 
and the familiar strains bring claps of recognition 
from the audience. He closes his eyes to concentrate 
on the music, pleased they are playing her favorite tune. 
The moment is so powerful she is right there with him, 
swaying to the rhythm, nestled in his arms, 
light as a feather. 

It's a long, gentle rendition, almost twelve minutes. 
The band takes solos, drawing every nuance from 
the old standard, their improvisations bold and fresh. 
As they return to the melody the tune gradually 
dissolves into silence. 

The patrons respond with sustained applause. 
When he opens his eyes he finds himself surrounded 
by dancers, lovers in each others' arms, 
cradled in his own embrace.

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