The gentle sounds of the piano caress my soul, A steady beat softly mixing sorrow and passion. The beat drones on, the anticipation of the singer's mark, Rising as I imagine her voice carrying me along. Timidly she starts, her eyes darting to and fro, Licking her lips, on the cusp of faltering. Then the moment passes. Her voice grows stronger, the artist takes over. The nervousness of singing for her lover banished. The artist takes over.