Halls Of Music Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Ricocheting through the atmosphere, notes and their
sounds bulleting around, hitting our ears and minds,
causing no damage, just giving a lively joy that fills
us totally and completely.

Raising hell, being good and innocent while doing so,
being comfortable and alive, striving only to be calm
and live in a tantalizing and delectable environment,
while striding down halls of music, watching it spread
it's wings and fill everyone's beings.