Marching Band

I watch the leaves across the field fall as if in slow motion

My arms and hands raise in a flourish

The fading light of day glintsoff their instrumets

I hit the down beat beat with as much intenstiy the first chord should have

I pick up sped I can feel their determnaion and excitemet

I hit each beat with as much precisio as I can

The first tune ends with a bang

I count off slowly keeping my eyes on the soloist

I smile as she hits her notes beautifully

I hear the roar of the crowd behind me

The tune ends a marcher out of place

Sticks it like he meant to be there

The snare taps and sizzles throuigh the drum break

The final tune is up

I count off smiling knowing it's their favorite

I watch the smiles on their faces they're ready

I hand them the note

The last chord dies out

I turn to the crowd and acknowldge the band

For they are the ones that made the show