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Fields of Glass
There
Is a rhythm
I could never get
Until then.
Onstage,
Watching the conductor, my page.
I was set on getting it
And I did-
And the conductor smiles
A smile so big it reaches to hell
And back.
Well,
I smile back
A smile so big
It reaches to the ends of the Earth.
And I play on
And I laugh
A laugh so sweet
That it makes flowers grow
Un-der-neath my seat.
And I laugh
A laugh so bitter
It waxes and wanes
And makes rats skitter.
And I crescendo my last and final thought.
Of whether to shift or whether to not.
And as the piece takes its final bow
I think about home
And the fields I plow
Fields of glass
And fields of stone.
Fields of brass
And fields alone.
But no,
Not here.
Friendship,
Family,
Call it what you will.
But even when they leave,
We are together, still.
Together in art,
Together in part,
Together we make
Something smart.
Orchestra
Strings
Say what you may,
Even when they graduate,
We'll find a way.
Copyright ©
Lilah Bausher
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