The sun beams on the brass
The wind throws nothing, but hot air.
The flags spin shade as I go to my dot.
The sunset comes as we blow out one last major chord.
The dark September winds howl over our shakos.
The owls sing along to our show.
We feel superior to the cold.
Our voices scream as we see the first place trophy come our way.
Not because we won,
But the
Sweat
Blood
Arm bruises
Tears
Dehydration
Was more than hard work.
It was more than witnessing the crimson sunset,
Watching airplanes flying across the midnight sky,
Wearing hats and gloves in the bus ride home,
Eating at a buffet in a ghetto neighborhood,
Playing notes,
Throwing rifles.
We were the show.
We were the dreamers who created reality and inspired those to become dreamers.
We were and are legends.
We were one in a lifetime.