The Recital

I make my way

up the old, concrete steps

Clutching my violin

Like a life preserver

Afraid that I may drown

Unnoticed

In this unfamiliar place

With all of these young prodigies

I enter the room

My fancy shoes shushing across

The velvet floor

I sit, my mouth dry

I spy a glass of water

And take a sip

to calm the butterflies

Who are wreaking havoc upon my midsection

It doesn't work

My sweaty hands fold into fists

I lay them on my lap

Not moving

Nor daring to breathe

I don't belong here

I am escorted

To a roped off section

Of stiff backed chairs

Where the geniuses are softly strumming

Their instruments

As if they have no cares

Maybe they do not

But I do

I am caring enough for all of them

I make my way

Nervously

To my seat

A girl to my right stares straight ahead

Feet flat on the ground

Her posture?

Perfect

She plays the piano

Which sits grandly upon the stage

So she simply sits

And practices the melody in her mind

As we wait

I try to speak to her

My throat dry

I silently scream at the water

That helped me not

I swallow and say

Is this your first performance?

She ignores me

Alas

The lights dim

The butterflies turn into crows

Banging and flapping

The uneasy walls of my poor stomach

Then

Can it be?

I spy a familiar face

An old classmate

But of course she would not

Remember me

A fancy man