The Peacock and her mirrors

Fanned out like a peacock
She coo-ed and preened
As though gazing at a mirror
She bedecked her gown sequinned.

Enrapt, her mirrors shone back
They eyes alert just for a byte.
Hanging on to every move
As though they'd miss a strain.

Taking her own sweet time,
"Drummer, guitarist, check!
The mic's jarring, bring another
Before I loose my bearings"

The mirror are restless, roving
And flashing some impatience.
A chant starts up, she hears,
"We want this to begin!"

With a laugh on her lips,
A scarred smirk in her eyes,
Like trapped canary,
She begins to sing...