He leaned back in the carver chair
His eyes were almost closed
With hair that flowed out everywhere
Like sound waves frozen in mid-air
As he listened to my tune.
But he could no longer then sit tight
As I struggled through my piece
I wanted to pitch the notes so right
And make the sound more full and bright
Though it worsened line by line.
“Picture a sunset in the sky
An artist’s palette taken up
And strewn about by God on high.
The colours whirl and seem to fly,
Oh, try to play that tune!”
“Ever sat by a mountain stream
As it trickled on its endless way
Round the rocks of time its waters gleam
Then open up your soul and try to dream
That your song warbles down the walls.”
“Do you know the thrill of the touch of a girl?
As she lifts her sweet face to yours
To whisper, “I love you”, the heart’s cymbals whirl
Filling the night with the mighty burl
Of the everlasting ode of love.”
“Take up your instrument of gleaming gold
And blow through its still cold form
Your heart and mind, your deepest soul
To reverberate with a sound so whole
With the colours of your life’s song.”
Mark Humber 7/04/01
Inspired by my wonderful trombone teacher, Monte.
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