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.