In their beds,
In the dark,
They sleep,
They dream,
And then they hear
That music oh-so-clear.
The flutes are dancing,
Pirouetting,
Singing a sweet melody.
Clarinets, they back the sound
Humming in pure harmony.
Mallets prancing on the keys
Of the silver xylophone,
And as they go
The trumpets slow
Coming to a lovely halt.
Lowering his magic wand
The conductor heaves a giant sigh,
And says, “Well done, my faithful friends.”
But they do not hear,
For the magic ends
When all the children awake.
In the dark,
They sleep,
They dream,
And then they hear
That music oh-so-clear.
The flutes are dancing,
Pirouetting,
Singing a sweet melody.
Clarinets, they back the sound
Humming in pure harmony.
Mallets prancing on the keys
Of the silver xylophone,
And as they go
The trumpets slow
Coming to a lovely halt.
Lowering his magic wand
The conductor heaves a giant sigh,
And says, “Well done, my faithful friends.”
But they do not hear,
For the magic ends
When all the children awake.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
despurlock
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