She was standing on a platform

Second row back from the stage

Stood like her father, slightly stooped

Hands clasped behind the base of her spine

In patient attendance

The man with the violin and the loop machine

Enchanted her, she stood petrified like stone

As he played the melody to her harmony

Beat tapped out on the wooden frame

Siren speakers singing in to her right ear

She felt the heat of the lights

On her skin and it was him, his instrument

A tool of beautiful creation and she

What was she but a stone idol

Locked in worship to a music

Greater than herself?