There was a spotlight on her that night,
Submerging her in a glow that demanded attention.
All else faded to background scenery,
As she performed her unconscious solo piece.
No one had bought tickets,
But they all took their place in the seats,
And waited on baited breath
For what masterpiece she might conceive.

There must have been an orchestra too,
For my heart thrummed harmonies to her every move,
And every voice which spoke
Seemed to be the overture to the entrance of her own.

She conducted herself effortlessly
Composed, with depths hidden just enough
To make all in attendance
Burn to learn the lyrics to her subtle smile.

And when she exited stage right on time,
There was too much awe for ovation.
For no hand among them
Could conceive to thank her with naught but a clap.

But one such hand found solace enough
After such a haunting act.
My own,
Squeezed tightly around hers
As she closed the stage door shut.