Vulcano

Hands on his knees were waiting. The violins of the orchestra, on his left, danced. They started to vibrate. His arms sliding slightly upward seemed to detach from his body in tension; The fingers began to caress the old and shiny piano keys. He loved the music; it was his life~classical. He forgot about that huge crowd listening ~ wax statues. He left the scene to hide in another universe. His face became a burning volcano. The notes exploded hotly and flooded the inner quietness. Then, after the last note slipped among his fingers, his face became a clear sky. He stood up to receive applause~ transgressing waves. Poem by Marieta Maglas