Sunday Sonnet [Rhyme-Free Once More], #24, 2015


[Image from Flickr]

A grandeur old, established, expected

too (not least for a burgundy carpet,

showing in relief stilettos, glitter

and gloss beneath stained lips bubble-touched).  Then,

the bell, the hush, the taking of seats.  Such

opulence quieting the throng.  Darkness.

The curtain rises, the orchestra plays –

fervent hum increasing, strings vibrato.

Light returns.  The man looks to his side: she

is even more beautiful in the play

of shadows.  How lucky he is to sit

with such a prize beside him, watch ballet,

and then go home to their own dance: embrace

of limbs, music internal – carnal.  Yes.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2015]