Bass Clef mid-F, in eighths.
Bass Clef mid-F, final quarter.
Salute completed, we stand.
To the left a head panned.
Those eyes contained
Unmistakable pain.
Pain at my performance?
Pain at my conformance?
The show must go on.
Standing, Bass Clef top line, staccato,
Then drop an octave, staccato; final note.
Applause.
But still the pain gives me pause.
It was the dry throat,
I tell myself.
It was the sloped chair or stage,
I want to believe.
But my lips, not the stage,
Missed the notes.
My finger, not the chair,
Depressed the wrong valve.
Show concluded,
We pack up and depart.
I watch for those red eyes,
But they don’t look at me.
My silence? Unintended;
Trying to fathom
What I cannot see.
Do I misunderstand?
Rough knuckles,
White back of hand,
In close proximity;
Moment in time ever on my mind.
Copyright © 2016 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 