I wanted to say something about my poem that I posted recently - "My Music."
On the last line of this stanza I said: "Then comes a blush..."
Majestic…lyrical…circling
Sounds invade my soul
Images sparkle before me
As the music swells and dies.
Then comes a blush.
(Poem found here)
When I was writing the poem I had an instant 'flashback' to the first time I heard live music in a restaurant. There was an older gentleman playing an accordion (Italian restaurant, of course), and a young lady was with him walking about the place singing for the patrons. When they got to the area where my wife and I were sitting, I remember the incredible power of the music as it was performed (a classical Italian piece)... and I was so struck by the majesty of the moment that it made me blush... and I clapped along with everyone else... all were moved in that moment. My blush was from an excitement of being presented with truly fine music that someone put many hours (years) in perfecting, and they were giving it as a gift to us.
I thought about changing that line, thinking that some people might misunderstand or think it a misplaced word... but it is not a misplaced word.
