Shivering canvas of silence,
Expectantly awaiting the brush-stroke of sound.
Squeak of the seat,
Sticks rest on the rim,
And my body is surrendered to puppet-master,
Like a marionette merely along for the ride.
Sensual whispers guide my hands from head to head,
Crash in my ears like waves of pleasure,
Hair rising, skin quivering,
Mistress of music demanding
My undivided attention.
The ride leaves me breathless, shaking,
As last brush-stroke rings unencumbered:
Brilliant color giving way to the forgetful silence.
And here I sit – just another drummer,
Just another day.
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