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World famous player of the five fingered flute,
   Wasn't quite so happy as he used to be.
   Being alone with just his flute,
   Nice clothes,
   And lounging around,
   Didn't do much to make his heart leap and bound.


   So being persistent in all his pursuits,
   And knowing of those that might help,
   He spoke to his grandmas,
   Of which he had two.
   They both said, "You have all you need.
   Food,
   Clothes,
   And a bed"!
   Kabodlute replied, "that is not enough in my head"!


   "Then you may need a person around,
   Just to keep your feet on the ground.
   Otherwise,
   You might float away,
   With no real reason to stay"!


   He looked at the friends he thought he had.
   Unfortunately, they were quite bad.
   They all laughed and teased him when he told them his dreams.
   Until Kabodlute thought he might scream!
   Not to mention his family who behaved the same way.


   Two wise grandmas he had that day,
   And pointed out one reason to stay!
   The King of Musicians loved how he played!
   But Kabodlute knew that the only reason the King wanted him to stay,
   Was to play for the money he earned every day.


   So Kabodlute decided to pack.
   He didn't have much,
   Just a flute,
   Tunic,
   And a hat.
   He said goodbye to his grandmas,
   He had two.


   Took flight with his flute,
   Over mountains,
   Forests,
   And streams.
   Searching for his dreams.
 

   A friend,
   Companion,
   Someone who could share,
   His love of music and go everywhere.


   Late that night the wind blew down,
   Settled him gently on the ground.
   His eyes adjusted to the moon light overhead,
   He sought a place to make a bed.


   Soft lumps were all around,
   Perhaps he could settle down.
   The stars twinkled,
   The moon was out,
   Lumps glimmered all about.


               Suddenly!


   The lump moved under him,
   Tossing him off!
   He heard a sound,
   The lumps were singing all around!
  


   Squinting in the moon light,
   Kabodlute saw the following sight.
   Each lump opened wide,
   And gave forth a note,
   Harmonized and Kabodlute had hope!


   Perhaps there was more than one note to be had,
   In the land of Egad!
   The note was quite mellow,
   Each lump closed again without further ado.


   Kabodlute was quite sad.
   One note was all they had in the land of Egad.
   So Kabodlute left the next day.


   Over mountains,
   And forests and streams,
   Still searching for his dreams.


   He landed on a mountain,
   He didn't know where.
   The wind whistled and moaned,
   Kabodlute felt very alone.


   Lifting his flute,
   He began to toot.
   Played all day and into the night.
   When he woke up the next day,
   He got quite a fright.


   Sounds were coming from below.
   Bang!
   Crash!
   Smash!
   What was making such a noise?


   He had to find out,
   No more larking about!
   Gathering his flute,
   Tucking his feet under his tunic,
   Rushing down the mountain.


   Tooting his flute the whole way,
   He came to stop at a village edge,
   Eyeing the figure that lay ahead.


   Cymbal hat upon her head, 
   Double cymbals dangling from her ears,
   Cymbal gown,
   Cymbals on both hands,
   Cymbals shoes to help her get around.


   Each move she made caused a clash of sound.
   Kabodlute understood at last.
   Her village wanted her out!
   Too much noise with her hanging about!


   "Stop", said Kabodlute,
   "I think I have a way to help you out."
   Sym stopped.
   "I don't know how to make it stop."


   She had hope you see,
   Maybe Kabodlute could set her free.
   He took a pocketknife out of his shoe,
   Cut five branches,
   Trimmed the limbs,
   Notched each end.


   There is always a beginning and an end.
   Attaching each limb to a strategic place,
   The cymbals were forced to remain in place.
   The cymbals on her hands he left free.
   He hoped she could make music you see.


                Oh My!


   Sym was quiet at last.
   Kabodlute lifted his flute,
   Softly began to toot.
   Sym followed his lead,
   Brushing her cymbals lightly together,
   Causing a balance to his notes.
   

   They became friends.
   This is truly the end,
   Until the poem begins again!
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