Red Satin

I wrote this in 2003. It reminded me of a time when I wanted to be a writer. I was at a piano recital.

Red Satin

The notes came softly at first,
yet few strained to hear their
beauty.

The man with the curly
moustache, eloquently dressed.
But I could see the drool
slowly leaking on his shoulder
as he traversed his dreams.

The young child, too young
to understand. So she fidgets
in her seat, seeking attention.
And mother takes her outside,
away from beauty.

But you continued, setting
hammer on string.
Then, I could see
the red satin of your dress
moving with the
rhythmic beats of beauty

that you were creating.
All I could do was stare,
understanding for the first time
that science was wrong
about life.

Because as you neared the
end of nocturne,
I will swear for the rest of my life
that I saw Red Satin come alive,
dancing and rejoicing.

And when the final note spoke
no more, Red Satin once again
was just red satin on a pretty dress.