Fingers poised, breath bated. The evening of dreams.
Music flowed in their veins.
From a long line of Masters she’d come. Fears had risen that she were the last.
Curtain swayed softly, parting gently.
The audience in unison hushed. Expectant in their dazzled finery.
He turned. Bowed. Turned again. Arms lifted, her progenies broke into stride.
Guiding the music, writing it as he orchestrated. A Master in majestic form.
How could she have ever doubted? The sounds of music. Grace. Wins. Every. Time.
True to form, the audience now on it’s feet with silent cheers to the sound of music.
Perhaps you’ll join us over at at our hostess-Rochelle’s blog. Friday Fictioneers November 2016. What’s your take on the picture prompt below? Love to hear!
PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg