Hours and Hours and Hours are spent
Learning the notes. Played again and again.
With gruesome frustration, at times it is hard
To look at the pages with peace in my heart.
To say that I know this, the best of the best
For practice makes perfect, but what can that mean?
When the hours come down to a minute in time,
Where nerves overcome the most talented kind.
But hours and hours and hours to go
Memorizing. Breathing. Fingering.
All I can say is that these pages are me.
The music my life, for I have spent more time
With these than any other friend.
Forever and ever the notes will be with me
Forever and ever comes down to this moment.
As I take a deep breath, remember the notes.
Close my Eyes. And play in time.
The hours and hours have come down to this.
The notes have ended, the room has gone silent.
What happens next is up to them,
And hope that the hours and hours and hours were not a waste.