Beautiful in Red

sheer
elegance, her red evening gown
sparkled sequins in every movement of her body
poised over the keys, intent, the sheen of
her black tresses, jeweled barrettes, the whole
of it left us breathless, our hearts in our chests.
she was no slave to sheets of music, no
anonymous page turner perched above her,
no need for sychronized nodding of head followed
by a swift sound of paper against molten air,
no, she alone, moved the air, the keys,
our souls.



Thank you, Hsing-ay Hsao!