Friday, December 23, 2011

I listened to a singer on a wooden stage
Her arms were crossed
There was a nonchalance in her manner
She swung slightly side-to-side
Her voice was the same. Swinging within a narrow range
Not great.
But it did the trick
Her voice wasn't bad on that wooden stage
It did the trick
I left her song behind
I heard one man say her looks weren't great
But they were all the same
What I remember most: the wooden stage
The girl with her arms crossed
The nonchalance in her voice
Me feeling this song, swinging slightly side-to-side

1 comment:

temporal rooms said...

these seemingly
uninspired moments
leave lasting warmth
from a wooden stage.