Hear the Sounds of Love

In line, we stand...
Waiting for a sign,
From the head man.

He waves us in.
I breathe deeply.
This excitement, must be a sin.

We file onto stage.
We take our seats.
Let the wars rage.

Wordlessly, the director grabs a baton,
Lifts it into the air,
All worry and fear, gone.

1, 2, 3, 4 he counts.
I breath.
We play, and let the air bounce.

The passion, the adrenaline.
The sounds of my love.
Around these people, my kin.

The ballad works its complex harmonies.
As my heart beats to the musical rhythm.
Sounds as sweet as the bird and the bees.

My fingers flutter,
Up and down the keys of the clarinet.
Continuous eighth notes, without a stutter.

The long note we hold,
Was cut to an end.
We stand proud and bold.

My heart.
It keeps its double time pace.
Ripping my chest apart.

Silence, then applause.
A smile bursts from my face.
My happiness, it defies all laws.

Off the stage we march.
With pride excuding from us all.
My lips crack, my throat is parched.

We go to the rehearsal room.
And we shout with glee!
Smiles all around, not a face of gloom.

I sit and remember.
My face to the window.
Feeling the winds of the night on December.

The passion, the adrenaline.
The sounds of my love.
I remember, and I grin.