Tara Riley Art

Anastacia by Curt B Vevang.

I’m escorted to the green room and told

I’ll be called in 5 minutes. My early days

of violin lessons flash in from of me.

Those days of drudgery. I never would

have survived had I not had a crush

pnVincent, my teacher.

Now I’m sitting in this so called green room

waiting to be called in for my Julliard audition.

I can’t help but notice the walls that surround me.

They’re anything but green, unfortunately

I can’t say the same thing for myself.

Will anyone notice that I am scared?

I’m beginning to question

what I’m doing here. I’ve waited

for this moment since I was a child.

Now that it’s here I’m not sure

I want to go on with this.

Two minutes Miss Anastasia

I lean back on the overstuffed comfy

couch and reflect on the piece I’m playing today.

My dress cost so much, I can’t disappoint my mother.

I’m in over my head. I have to do well.

It’s either a full ride to Julliard or a life

spent as just another lab tech who

knows how to strum a violin.

23 minutes from now my entire

future will be cast in stone.

I wonder hoe I’ll do?

A knock on the door,

Miss Anastasia, you’re on.