Take your seats for tonight’s performance
An adagio, not a sprint
Running a piacere, clearing the reel from the back of your eyelids
A soundtrack of masterpieces, concert of youth misspent

The baton raps memories to attention
Shivers down your spine
Not breeze over sweat, but the souring tenor of the tenor
Guardi le stele (which are not out yet)

Cannon blast beyond 1812
Through an archway of trees
Creators of their own Birdcage
Going to London to visit the Queen

Pizzicato feet beat out accelerando
Unable to maintain steady a tempo
Swept up in the music
The glory of the song

Sun setting pink over cotton wool clouds
The beauty of the London twilight
The beauty of violins sweeping higher, higher
The bow plays your heartstrings without mercy

Cresting the hill atop the crescendo
Pastoral contrast with metropolitan darkness
Volante, you fly, turn away
Revelling in your reverie

The final act to an old favourite
Continue past the beep as you can’t bear to stop
The beat of the timpani, primal, bellicose, charging on and on
Til the final devastating clash; you halt
Falling metaphorically to the ice
Triumph flowing through you, vibrato for the soul

Decks cleared
Mind altered
Heart full

And you get on the Tube.