Paris, 1867

There’s a deep hush now, on my exit.All that’s left is the faint raspingof trombone slides and music stands,the rustling of a breathless orchestra under our feetThe house lights dim to twilightand the velvet curtain skims the stagewhile stage-hands dressed in shadowssilently dismantle the scene.I am winded in the wings.The buzzing inside my head is … Continue reading Paris, 1867