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Concert Night

We were there for th wind ensemble, There was where I met you, My senses traversed through ' ` th geography of your body, Then, th first song. In th expanded moment, Tubas transformed into windmills, Trumpets moan and yearn, My senses never left ' ` your cotton-covered hills. Golden canaries flew out of clarinets, As bell flowers bloomed from th horns, I glanced to you when it was th solo sax, And imagined children when ' ` th percussion frolicked and fawned. Then, the last song wrapped. Encore! Encore! Just one more: One more, I begged.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

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Date: 3/18/2016 2:21:00 PM
Very nice, Welsonn. May I politely ask: Are you aware that the "e" appears to be missing off several of your words? I refer to the word - "The". Nevertheless...A lovely little poem. My best regards! :) john P.s A seven
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Welsonn Goh
Date: 3/21/2016 2:11:00 AM
AH yes. It's a bad habit of mine to imply the 'e' in 'the', instead of making it explicit. It came about from reading Shakespeare when much younger; he would substitute the Es with an apostrophe. Th' winds ev'r be thine. I don't know. It bothers some people. Do you think I should kick the habit.