They gather long before
required.
For the past five months, they’ve been inspired
To do their best,
And ace the test.
The dreary-eyed mass,
Of sisters and brothers,
Join together to surpass
The efforts of the others.
The windows are fogged.
Not a soul can see
The determined faces
Of my line and me.
As we arrive, wearing
beanies and gloves,
Our faces and skin are as white as doves.
We can see our breath when we release
Warm air, as our chests decrease.
The frantic unloading
Of equipment and drums
Is followed by the warming
Of our blue cold thumbs.
The crowd is ecstatic
And stands as we leave.
Finally, my last show,
This I can’t believe.
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