It's a dream - not a job

Tue, 03/04/2014 - 10:49 -- Salem53

Location

Blurred faces rush.

Doors swing to let in cold

during Winter concerts.

The smell of this wooden pencil

and the familiar, professional paper

makes me feel important

but as I sit, I'm lost in the music.

My mind swirls with the cadences,

the rhythms, the breaths.

This will get a roaring review.

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