THE SOPRANO

in her dark loose hanging velvet gown
The curtains unveiled her to the town,
Clutching the microphone to her face.
The bare skin she showed sparked my heart race.
The front of her frock gathered her breasts,
snug together like birds' eggs in nests.
The blowdried curls of her long dark mane
flowed down back shoulders like bride's veil train.

She stretched out the chords as she stretched arms,
spreading fingers, opening out palms.
,As if reaching out to audience
in the more intimate ambience
where all eyes and ears hung on her words,
the most ravishing of songbirds.
Like a cat she walked around the stage,
the flash of her bare back made lusts rage,

Some of the men could not help but stare
where line stopped short of her derriere;
others' eyes fell further to sandalled feet,
when she rested behind on the tall seat,
sensuously crossing legs, smooth skinned.
When she'd closed her song, the room was dinned
with wolf whistles of appreciation
as host gave bouquet of carnation.