Marching Band Practice

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I stand in the freezing cold.
So cold I might as well
Have icicles hanging off
The end of my nose.
Burr!!!

After a long day of school
I get to be standing here
On this hilly pavement they call a parking lot.

I have my tiny black piccolo in hand.
My soft, white, knit gloves on,
Missing all the fingers except for the thumbs.
Hand warmers in every pocket.

I see Mr. Lewis
Standing tall and proud
On his silver podium
High above us.

We look like tiny ants
Scrambling around
Looking for food
In preparation for fall.

I am cold yet
There are beads of sweat
Slowly dripping down my
Face and back.
I am tired and want to go home.
My mouth is dry.
I wish I had some water.

“One more time, one more time!”
He never means one more time.
Always five or six more.

After all the countless hours of practice,
The three words we long to hear…
“Bring it in!”

We suddenly swarm Mr. Lewis.
He gives a quick pep talk.
Then we storm inside
To as stay snug as a bug in a rug.





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SaraB. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 22, 2010 at 8:16 pm
I know what you mean, I'm in band too. But in Arizona, it's more heat stroke we worry about rather than frostbite. :) lol.
 
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