Mus-e-ic (a sonnet)
Long blonde hair, bound by a band,
pleated pants and dressy polyester blends.
Holding sheet music in one hand,
and that drink she recommends.
Setting up as the crowd murmurs
sweating, shifting, settling in his seat.
Silence yields from the observers,
but he’s trembling for a beat.
Ivory and black blurs betwixt his palms,
until he sees a glimpse of her,
gallantly glimmering, she calms
him from afar, drinking her coffee liqueur,
she listens as he lulls, forgotten the fear
from prior to her being near.