Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2014
I raise my horn the the stand, and scream at the people that sit and stare.
I hold back my breaths, and I try not to care
About the wind that fingers and tugs at my hair.

The crowds cheer and cry, and I hold my bell high,
as I step back one, two, three-four-five
We're running out of time.

I end the note, and bring the bell down,
My feet steady and balanced on the ground,
And suddenly, the field is void of sound.

People are quiet, for a moment, before they all begin to stand
And they all cheer for our large, amazing band
I halt my row with a wave of my hand.

We gather up, straight faced, and proud
I glance forward, to look for my folk amongst the crowd
But all I see is an ocean of strangersΒ Β to enshroud
I'm thinking back to my first marching Band competition. My parents refused to show.
How loyal?
Kelsey Rose
Written by
Kelsey Rose
881
     Vanessa Gatley and Shanijua
Please log in to view and add comments on poems