Musical standmates share
A special type of bond
Not one of friendship or love
But of knowing where things belong

You learn how to adjust the stand
So that it's the perfect height
How to turn a chair, pick up a bow
So it goes well on concert night

You also learn how they speak
(My stand partner loves bad puns)
And how to reply back to them
(With all the memes under the sun)

Black swans and roses
And debonair dark hose
What the conductor says
Is how the music goes

Night's magic abounds
Students horse around
Then the music plays
And it's silent on the grounds

Spotlights make auras
Players dance through the stanzas
The night's nearly out
At the end of the codas

The kids run off the stage
Never losing a page
With the March air about
The swans act of their age

Ocean waves lapping the shore.
Everything faded out leaving only the crash tsssshhhhhh of the waves nullified in the sand.
Drowned in the rhythmic arrangement.

Coconut trees in the distance rubbing leaves like the supporting instruments on this beach orchestra.

And then there was you.
And me.

With only the moon over head.

The first day that I met you
My heart was pounding in my chest
But it could have been because
I ran there, to the Starbucks
On the Ave
The one you used to work at
But maybe it wasn't because I was
In such a rush
It could have been the coffee
I've heard that can increase your
Heart rate
Or maybe both of these are wrong
You see, I was born with a slight
Arrhythmia
Which messes with the way my heart beats
But maybe it was my hearts way of saying
This one is the one
There's no way of knowing
But ever since that day
I've been smitten;
Scheduling my whole day around
Getting to see you
And I even remember the first time
I rode in your car
Because
You were worried about me
But it became a regular thing
You drove me home on the nights
You worked a close
And each and every time I fell more and more
And you started to feel like home
Because home is not a place
But a feeling in the heart,
And maybe it was my arrhythmia
But I've felt it since the start
And then you up and left
You moved so far away
But you needed to be with your family
I just wish you could've stayed
So I guess I had to visit
Because I was craving you so much
You see, you're like a drug to me,
You're my ******
My crutch
Because I wouldn't make it
Through every day life
Without your voice to hold onto
And our conversations replaying
Over and over
In my painseeking mind
Play it through
Then rewind
Again and again
I reminisce you
And every time we're together it's like
The world stops
And as we lay together
You tell me
"I can hear your heart beating are you okay?"
And maybe you heard
The arrhythmia
Which is why you were concerned
But my heart pounds in my chest
Like the timpani in an orchestra
And every third beat is half the length of the others,
But that's just *the arrhythmia

can you play the right keys?
use your right, left, right, right, left
hand
-wait which one?-
one at a time
now both
-crap i cant do this-
*******, three fingers
take it down an octave
stay at the rhythm please
follow everyone else
-i cant focus on mine and everyone elses!-
and now repeat
*-help...-

The bass bassoon is poised
And the penny whistle too
And when the families converge
You hear under the hullabaloo
The sweetest harmony
Absent of cacophony
Because you see
There's one thing that we rely upon
Everyone of us has an eye on
The front man who bears the baton
As he grips our attention
For no matter how long
Directing us as instruments
Of righteous passion.
This is his signature song,
So lead on dear maestro,
Lead on!

The audience, silent, took a breath in unison
Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
Banhus and Gadulkas played folk and polkas
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of stringed melodies

Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
A concert harp, plucked by fingers long, smooth and sharp
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of the woodwind class
Saxophones provided a melancholy lilt, the timp was traditionally built

A concert harp, stroked by running fingers, smooth and sharp
Every sharp and flat note was passed through the throaty reeds of oboes
Saxophones reminiscent of ‘jive’, the timp in its size had nowhere to hide
This exhibition of musical traditions played late into evening with no intermissions

Every sharp and flat note accounted for, motifs carried whispers of folklore
Banhus and Gadulkas, swapped stories with bassoons and bagpipes
The exhibition had finished, piano keys rested, every note has its operatic death

The audience, silent, took a breath in unison

Like a puzzle
Frustrating, beautiful,
And in the end fulfilling
Finding the right words
The right thing to say
That helps you express
The way you want to be

Like a bestfriend
A confidant
Pouring your soul out
Because you can
Your fears
Your desires
Your problems
Your choices

Like a snowflake
Always new
Always different
Always unique
Not one is alike

Like a child’s dream;
An ice cream shop
So many choices
Too many choices
You want them all
You hate them all
You can’t have them all

Like a piece of art
Whether paint or clay
Different formats
Different colors
Different shapes
And different sizes

Like an orchestra
All different sounds
Coming together
To make one big,
Beautiful, enthralling
And emotional sound

Because poetry is poetry
Everything works
Everything fits
Nothing is wrong
Nothing is right
Just freedom
In words