Maestro
The Maestro comes to play
With numerous things to say
Our dear classic friend the baton.
The guy who seldom keeps up drawn.
The Maestro comes to lead
When all of us simply read
My old friend the saxophone
Does nothing but whine and moan.
I do not blame such a poor soul.
We are always in control.
If only we get to stand out
In a crowd where they’ve no doubt
The Maestro comes out to choose
A fabled folk with nothing to lose
Contacts, contacts, his contacts
That’s what it’s all about. Facts
No wonder why the second rate
Such standards are not up to date.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
