This evening I take to the stage
to stand behind the Mic
to read my bits of poetry,
the thought fills me with fright.

My nerves now wrapped in butterflies
My tongue is neatly tied
My knees now knock with terror
and my voice is in a vice,
the thought fills me with horror
as my blood turns into ice.

My sweaty palms are shaking
my book is firmly grasped
as I practise reading clearly
not too slowly, not too fast.

I love to write my poems,
like to read them in my head
but tonight I'll stand behind the Mic
and read for you instead.