The Show


  Stood still, waiting for the show,

And they,

  Dangl'd down, from Her ear lobes,

Its chains,

  Defined Her, with grace.

     Softly, tracing Her face.



      When, the Mu.Sic begins,

Her movements,

      Make the metal mold to the sound.

Each beat. Each note. Each word.

Each one, had b'gun, t'be, a part. Of. Her.


Her eyes though,

                        were frozen on stage.


       Pierced the crowd and fumes,

   And, She'd found the fire's fuel.



   Melt'd away. N'became,

   One.  With the waves.


Between the Artist's heart and Hers,

There was.  No.  Gap.


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