Poem: the swaying violinist – 17/12/21

as I sit by the fireplace I wonder,
what is the occasion we are all searching for?
the virtuosic line of violin sweeping the pavement and
rising with dear dear sentiment
vibrato so wide and with dissent with disapproval
the other turns down his smile and walks away
he does not like this piece
this celebration of mine
a joyous showiness filled with mirth and grins and sways and swings
trip-lett-ing –
flautando then glissing
 
falling falling for him as he walks from my view
this mistake this mistake I’m putting myself through
but it’s fine, it’s permissible, to fall for the wrong man
for at times we can wine and dine ourselves with our
superficial charms and demands

up in arms are we when he and I waltz together
myself him and that violin we are tiptoeing
we are prance-footing
to the beat to the beat which is spread with the most ravenous of ease,
to please the soloist we must make amends
and allow for its treatment to be stretched
it’s a show, you see,
and he must turn and face me.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Philip Myrtorp on Unsplash

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