A poem about Marching Band
By: Elise Rowe
The beat of the cadence
The roar of the applause
The man on the loudspeaker
All play on your nerves
Adrenaline rushes through you
Some begin to shake
And even so
None make a mistake
All around you
There are eager faces
All craving success.
These people are dedicated
They want everyone to see
The show they’ve created
And the joy it brings.
Solemnly, they take their dots upon the field
Looking up as the drum majors ready.
They begin the count off practiced and steady
And as the downbeat stars to fall,
The feeling crescendos within us all.
Preparing to play the first sound of music
All are thinking alike:
Tonight, we may not win this thing,
But we’ll give it our best, all the same!