By Marco Croce

I stand in the classroom, the spotlight upon me

Take a breath in, fidgeting nervously

All of the faces, looking and listening

Sure as anything, they are all whispering

Ready to start, I look at the teacher

She glances back at me, silent but eager

I stutter my first line, my throat suddenly dry

What has become of me that I am so shy

Confidence is the product I desperately need

But the shop is all shuttered, that is guaranteed

Can I draw strength from some other source?

I am not sure, but my voice is now hoarse

Maybe I can do this, I say in my head

The devil on my shoulder says “Give up instead.”

Dismissing my fears, I try something new

I think to myself, This is what I will do

And then, like that, everything comes

And I no longer feel like I’m in the slums

My mouth is so confident, it’s as easy as pie

I have never felt such a serendipitous high

It’s coming to an end, I have to admit

But I really have quite enjoyed every bit

I pull out my final line, (one without flaws)

and after a second comes the thunderous applause