Debut (Poetry)

The Conductor’s First Night of the Proms

The queen of the cello, the fiddle, the flute
she flirts with the orchestra, keen in pursuit
of the fabulous rhapsody written for love
with the stalls full of critics and gods up above

She reigns over keyboard, bassoon and French horn
the overture’s stunning — the notes newly born
and every seat’s taken — the hall’s in a trance
as the violins weave invitations to dance

The king of the cymbals bows low to her smile
she taps out a tempo that tarries awhile
before the third movement bursts forth into grief
for the passionate romance so tragically brief

The drama of drum rolls, the sob of the strings
she floats on the melody — arms spread like wings
’til the poignant finalé — drawn in with a sweep
and the audience cheers as emotions run deep

She curtseys so graceful, accepts each bouquet
with a wave and blows kisses, then turns straight away
to her retinue, giddy to witness the sight
her star in ascendant — she’s queen of the night