The night is cold, the air is thin,

the football game is about to begin.

Crowds are cheering kids are running, 

the coaches on the field are swift and cunning.

The attention falls on the game with unknowing grace,

as tons of athletes get hit straight in the face.

Everyone's eyes attract toward the ever playing game

as the students behind the bleachers get ready to embrace a different sort of fame.

Gauntlets are in place plumes are unfurled,

as the students get ready to transport to another world.

A world of darkness illuminated by blinding lights,

a world that becomes quiet as the drum majors take flight.

The woodwinds are ready, the brass are in stance,

and the flag line is set to make a quick advance.

The field is still and the students breath as one,

the instruments play and the show has begun.

The beat is steady and the sound is strong,

each step has a purpose and should not be wrong.

Each mistake deducts a point, fixing it takes another.

They try to think of the music one measure to the other.

The show builds to the third movement with great fervor,

eyes wander to the drum major to keep the beat, their preserver.

Just as the tension reaches the final climax,

one staccatoed note rings and the students finally relax.

As they march off the field they held their heads high,

the stars shone streaks of silver through the night sky.