Sorry it's late! I've been super busy the last two days so I haven't really had a lot of time for the internets.
Anyway, I went to a Ben Folds show on Tuesday. This was the result. (Not really my best work, but with some editing, it might turn out alright.)
Outlined in indigo
It’s a very dark room,
But the platform is bright and the piano’s outline
He sits behind the Yamaha,
Indigo-outlined just the same,
And he sways and jumps and wails
and pounds on those keys
as though we are his best friends
and he wants these moments to count.
We’ve known him for so many years.
This is our Christmas morning,
When he gives out the best presents
And all we can do is watch and smile and wish for just one more.
He basks in every moment,
When all of us are standing still,
Aching for that next line, next note,
And even when some guy yells
His only response is
“What?” and then he goes on playing,
As though the word has no meaning in his world.
Why should it?