Dim lights,
Smoke floating around the air.
I am on stage,
Getting ready to play music
With my whole being.
I look to my band mates one by one.
Each of them nods,
A signal to start the soul wrenching music.
I play a high pitch note,
Then I run my fingers over the keys,
Fast, then slow.
The drums add spice to my sax.
The cello adds the bass.
Soon, all other sounds and visions are lost to me.
All I hear is my saxophone.
All I feel are my fingers on the cold brass.
All I see is the music
As it intermingles with the smoke.
I play for hours,
Hardly taking a break.
A bead of sweat runs down my nose
As I play the last note of the song.
I stop, close my eyes, and catch my breath.
The audience cheers and claps.
However, I open my eyes.
I am in high school at a recital.
My mother cries because she is so proud of me.
I smile at the end of my song,
And wheel myself back into the mass
Of students and we play as one being.
My heart and soul created the jazz cafe of my dreams.
A place where I could play my music
On my own two feet.
Hekate Moon Community Member 
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