It’s a funny thing; our memories.

Remembering the joy of our passions is easy,

But remembering what I had for lunch is hard.

How is that possible?

Maybe it's the impression that marching band leaves,

How we all come together to make something magical,

On a Friday night under the stadium lights for 8 minutes,

We shine for our passion and grit on a simple football field.

Or maybe it’s the people we meet,

Who share the same passion for music, dance, performing,

How we form bonds that can last forever,

And become almost like a family.

Could it be the music?

Where the percussion creates a heartbeat,

And the melodies form the feelings of an entity,

I try passionately to replicate for the audience.

But maybe it’s all those things,

The music, the emotions, the people

The magic and memories that are created,

That stays with me, long after the performance is done.

When I shine on that field as a performer,

The musicians, guard, and ambience,

Create a luminous glow that enchants me;

No longer a person, but a vibrant, glowing deity.

The feeling is like warm sunshine,

Burning bright with happiness and energy,

It’s like a rollercoaster that never goes straight,

Twists and turns make it hard to settle on one emotion.

But when I strike my final pose,

The excitement, emotions and passion flow over me,

Like a colorful dam that broke,

But I stand sturdy, holding onto these memories.

Those memories are special to me,

As they’re the constant reminder of the magic I made,

The passion I hold, the enchanted moments,

And I hope they last forever.