Ode To a Common Time Whole Note

Little circle on the page Takes up so much space All alone between the bars The half notes gossip, Obstinate pairs. The quarters compare stems; Eighths in beamed gatherings And sixteenth note parties rave. But alas the single circle; No stems or beams in sight, Sits alone in his lined cage Alone from bar to bar. Yet he is whole, In name. Other notes unneeded in the wake Of his fullness, His wholeness, So to speak. That’s it, he tells himself Over again. It’s not I’m alone, I’m just all that’s needed. I’m not alone.