Her voice was like a pearl:
smooth, rich texture, though bumpy
as she ran over her runs.
A rush of water over a rocky shore
even between the cracks.
A voice of flowing silk,
she rippled her notes,
her breath streaming
underneath, over,
and over, and over.
Rolling in beaded balls of vibrato
into the thread of song,
clicking together elegantly,
castanets in flamenco songs.
Her pearl glimmered across the rough stage,
a soft sight to the ears and eyes,
taking on many hues in the light:
aquamarine, peony pink, shimmering gray.
It colored the stage,
Making the awe-struck audience unable to look away.
As she finished, they began to roar,
but all she gave was a meek round of bows.
Her pearl—a humble gem,
only shown when she opened her mouth,
hidden to preserve the beauty inside.