It's a dream - not a job

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


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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