We’ve been going there since the late 60s
Red plush seats
Ivory-colored walls
Ornate with sculpted shapes
Patterns
Faces and vases
Gold-leaf highlights
As the hour approaches
Far below
On the stage
Instrumentalists
Move into sections
Concert Master appears
An A is sounded
Tuning begins
Then silence
Audience awaits
Tuxedoed conductor emerges
Taking the podium
Cues the orchestra
Magic and wonder fill the room
I often feel
On those evenings
Nothing else exists
Hurtling through the universe
Alone in this space
Unique in its own timelessness
Creations of those long departed
Made present
©2019 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 