the crowded ballroom is restless
with masqueraded patrons
pressed in black-and-white
and dressed in evening gowns
resembling overturned lilies
variegated and translucent
like opals in the sun
and flutes of bubbling champagne
in each hand
even the fickle tongues
of each candle in every
ivory and gilt candelabra
pirouette impatiently
but in she serenely walks
dressed like a mourning
lady of shalott
face paler than the moon
and untamed hair
fiery like the undisciplined flames
past the harp
and steinway
up to the microphone
underneath the low hanging
chandelier weeping
twinkling crystals
as the lights dim
and the patrons hush
the twanging of strings commence
and the tinkling ivory keys
of the steinway fills the air
accompanied with the occasional
pluck pluck pluck
of the harp
as the choir harmonizes
to the melody
and her angelic mezzo-soprano voice
crescendos as the song continues
singing of the pain and love
we all feel
but cannot express
her mournful eyes do not
evade the audience
and i know she does not
know me personally
nor i her
as i stand here
amid these helpless lovers
i know she sings
of the love and sorrow
we all feel
but cannot express
i find myself
among those lyrics
only she can express
with perfection
somehow she knows us all