Mr. Musican - Why Didn'T I Listen? - Poem by Brookelyn Walker
Pulled apart at the conductors command.
Ruffled as they began.
Sprang to life in their hands.
A de ja vu so sweetly played.
That note that isn't quite being hit.
The tuba is out of tune.
The piano is drowned out.
His solo is coming up.
Strings streaching and moving with his hand.
That boom that isn't the bass drum.
That twinkle sound that isn't the bells.
No, it is the heavens crying as he plays.
They run for cover as it rains harder.
I stand there listening.
He stands there playing his song.
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