I spent my day reading and sleeping, a pleasant day really. I had sudden inspiration to write my own prose, but then I figured I should do poetry, because it's really much easier.

Her fingers paused
Over the keys as she waited
Trembling
For the crowd to silence.

She waited
Till the silence fell
Just like the curtain call
On her last performance.

She waited
Till she could hear the pin drop
The rustle in the wings
The creak of the chair
The whispering of doubt
The man's impatient cough
From the back of the hall.

And when she played
You could hear each note
Weaving itself into the melody
Each quaver, each rest
No longer searching but
Finding its place at home.

You remember your sweetest dream
Your latest nightmare
Your greatest hope
Your bottled fears
The gentlest of caresses
The agony of heartbreak
The pleasure of elation
The paroxysm of pain.

Each emotion entwined in a quilt
Lay so beautifully entangled
Upon the audience
Untouched, unharmed
While the world outside spun
Trapped in motion
On it's never-halting axis.