swing, swing, swing

swing, swing, swing

A Poem by Beatrice Noir

 

the cabaret is in full swing,
the smoke is thick and the soft voices amused.
theater for the evening, on all accounts.
the girls in their best dresses and men showing them off.
i stand center stage, the third act of the night.
breathless.
but when the piano starts gliding notes out like tears,
i cant help but feel the song swell up in me, ready to burst.
and it echos across the dense room.
even the soft clarinet humming seems to bounce off the walls and float amongst the people.
the snow falling outside and the deep restlessness twitching under my skin,
fades away, when i`m at the mic.

© 2008 Beatrice Noir


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Added on February 25, 2008