Anxiously anticipating,
I sit outside the bandroom -
not ready quite yet for the first day of school.

Dried gobs of gum on the ground
Tell the stories of many before me:
Of a typical high school crowd.
but we are the atypical.
  Yearning, breathing, playing -
   making music, sweet sounds,
      together.

Because now, as I sit outside the band room,
the air reeks of an old stench: stale brass, and heavy sweat,
forever found ground into the carpets.

I press my ear to the door
and hear faint sounds, pleasant sounds -
an exciting new song, a new song for another year…
  a song to which I will no longer contribute.

Breathing in,
I feel it:
  the song,
  the feelings,
  the music,
  the passion,
   the memories.

And as the song ends, I realize:
I haven’t,
for I am a part of an unending song:
  
 
And high school is just the introduction.