Poised like a python ready to attack
He sits on the edge of the black dimpled stool,
His long youthful legs almost straight,
His shiny shoes alert, in a primed state.
 
The highly polished piano bereft of music sheets
Now instantly alive, at the onslaught on her keys.
The passion of his playing, his form will he unseat
His mind, to his hands to his fingers with his feet?
 
The reflection of his flying hands as though they are four,
He nearly stands straight up, but on the last chord;
Lifting his drained glistening face
He acknowledges the rapturous applause.