the tin angel

2002-06-25 - 12:17 p.m.

a glimpse of the tin angel

She made her way through the crowd to the corner of the room that served as a stage. She fumbled with her guitar and smiled, squinting out into the lights. She tried a few times to clear her throat and wiggled back and forth on her stool in search of balance that seemed to elude her, try as she might.

She began to sing with her eyes closed, soft and trembling, and the guitar teased at the corners of the rhyme. As the song continued she grew more sure of her rocking back and forth in time. You could see her forget that she had to try. It all just pushed its way to the surface of its own volition and broke free from her vocal chords in a wave and we rode with her along its crest.

There was a short silence when she stopped at last and I watched her fall back into her body as she remembered she was there. She opened her eyes to the applause, blushed, and looked to her shoes with a crooked grin on her face.

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