With elegance and grace.
With a smile on her face,
She smirked at her task.
The numerous gazing eyes,
She accumulated in a glance.
And with a grin she thought,
That she would easily convey the tale
Without feeling it herself.
And she then shed a laughter
For the one who had otherwise told her;
Knowing too well in her confident heart,
That it was her own ego-alter.
And then her charismatic voice broke out.
Turning into a music of speech,
It echoed within the confines of the wall.
Crescendo and climax,
Rhythm and beats,
Fire and retreat-
All bundled in a voice,
That belonged to an indifferent face.
She made the numerous hearts wail
With such heart-rending, such sullen a tale.
She sang through the eve,
Like a swallow on some divine leave.
And infused in the hearts in front-
A sorrow to cherish,
And tears to embellish.
And when, the end of her tale she sensed,
And noticed the numerous brimming eyes,
She knew she had done it without any feel.
She had induced something from nothing indeed.
She had accomplished the task, she thought so;
She rejoiced in her heart, to know for sure.
A thunderous applause then broke out like hell;
When suddenly on her palm a drop-like thing fell.
She looked above,
To see whether it was a cloud thing.
But found instead,
The flashlights and the ceiling.
And then unconsciously , without any forethought,
When she stroked her eyelid
With a heavy sigh,
She knew that the drop was a tear
From her crying eye.