Marching Love

Marching Love

|Sonnet|

By: McKenzie Wadsworth

Marching Band starts in the eighth month each year.

With horns in hand, we all enter the school.

Failure and last place are our greatest fear.

In Clyde High School rooms we wish it was cool.

The week spent sweating in no-AC rooms,

Finally home for a good night sleep.

Then four more days of just setting out plumes.

Marching about like a large flock of sheep.

Tenth up through Twelfth graders all with a snack.

Larry and Garry both saying "Same much."

After my Grad year, I'm so coming back.

To help with basic music and such.

Band to the ready! "Clyde Pride!" we all yell.

God, I love marching band, it is just swell.