The hard metal risers held the students,
Creaking under the large weight.
Onto the next song in the performance,
The conductor hastily turns on the mic.
He, in his strapping tuxedo, faces the audience,
Planning to inform the people in front of him.
Rushing to the piano, he plays twelve notes
Followed by a minor chord.
Lifting his hands, two students walk forward,
Both axious to get their solos out of the way.
One of the two.
Heads in the crowd turn my ears into melting candles.
The entire choir begins, the harmony not yet in tow,
their mouths bounce up and down and the notes loudly sung.
The spotlight is upon my partner,
Articulating every syllable,
His word flowing in one cohesive sentence.
His voice pierces the air, and his solo ends.
He passes the microphone to me,
My solo arriving on a limping horse
Unable to arrive on time or sing the words right.
All eyes pierce my soul as I try to sing the first line,
But my wobbly knees and blank mind say otherwise.
Flustered, I hummed the rest of the tune
And try to recover the limping solo.
I messed up in front of hundreds,
Most faces I knew.
My flustered face longed for the tears to roll down my cheek,
To keep those emotions flowing.
But the look from my peers
That look that you give when you help an injured animal,
Or care to the elderly,
Pressured my behavior into emotionless singing.
Stage fright bested my performance.
The song ended, and applause roared like a pride of lions.
Mouth agape, I didn't deserve this praise.
My merry-go-round brain made me freeze.
Their purpose for clapping was unknown to me,
But my cunductor kept me up for another round of applause
Cheers for my effort.
Instead of feeling disappointment
For this tiny child
They felt proud
Because I did what they had not
And failed publicly
Accepting my defeat and attempting to make the best of it.
Not all bad things end with a limp.
Sometimes they put a hop in our step.