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An Unending Song
Anxiously anticipating,
I sit outside the bandroom -
not ready quite yet for the first day of school.
Dried gobs of gum on the ground
Tell the stories of many before me:
Of a typical high school crowd.
but we are the atypical.
Yearning, breathing, playing -
making music, sweet sounds,
together.
Because now, as I sit outside the band room,
the air reeks of an old stench: stale brass, and heavy sweat,
forever found ground into the carpets.
I press my ear to the door
and hear faint sounds, pleasant sounds -
an exciting new song, a new song for another year…
a song to which I will no longer contribute.
Breathing in,
I feel it:
the song,
the feelings,
the music,
the passion,
the memories.
And as the song ends, I realize:
I haven’t,
for I am a part of an unending song:
And high school is just the introduction.
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