Opera

Dusty velvet seats hum silent hymns A chandelier sways like a drunk ballerina Footsteps echo where ovations bled The stage breathes alone in pale spotlight
Whispers cling to gilded walls History drips from cracked plaster The organ sleeps beneath white sheets
Oh how the marble used to sing When crystal voices pierced the dome Now midnight creeps through stained glass Carrying ghosts of high C’s
Ticket stubs fossilized in corners Programs yellow with forgotten dates The prompter’s box yawns empty While sheet music turns to lace
Moonlight washes the orchestra pit Drowning cellos in silver silence The curtain shivers remembering
Oh how the marble used to sing When crystal voices pierced the dome Now midnight creeps through stained glass Carrying ghosts of high C’s
Somewhere a soprano wakes Her vibrato cracks the dawn The rafters tremble recognizing That note that shook the stars
Morning finds the keys still warm Footprints fresh on dusty stage The house lights blink awake To an audience of one