Amadeus Deux and the Silent Symphony
On this day, the fifth of May
We find our anecdote in worry, livid with the gibberish
Mrs. Tarr had recently spoke,
For he, only churlish at best, is to be dragged downtown
In greatest pity, at least for he.
The itinerary, one that was not cogent,
Head to the park where the cerebral
Compilations of Mr. Wolfgang Mozart
Can be heard, convoluted, beyond the doors
Adorned with lurid glass
Fashioned to promulgate the last act of the day,
A symphony by Amadeus Deux,
A man from faraway.
The plan, inimical, one might say
Or so thought Robin to himself that day,
For his hearing, spurious
And the symphony, a surfeit.
He thought to himself, dismayed
Why, oh why, was I born this way?
Displeased and retreating from the rest of the group
Robin, feeling thrown through a loop, misunderstood
This incumbent trip, he knew not how he’d enjoy
The first movement
However, Mrs. Tarr, she thought it quite staid
“No matter your condition, you’re implored to remain.”
She spoke soundly and although he could not hear,
The answer was no less than what he had feared.
And at this, they entered.
In the grand auditorium, they found themselves seats
Not far off from the source of supple beats
That would be played for their pleasure and enjoyment,
Except for Robin.
The lights dimmed and as the audience boarded the edge of their seats
The stage was being risen with a rumble in-sync
With the pulse of those attending
When suddenly, Mrs. Tarr had something to entreat.
A balloon for the boy with no ears to find a beat.
At this, he apologized for all reprimands
For his time too would be spend with the band
And all Mrs. Tarr had said to persuade him
To stay, to listen, to feel the music’s ways
Was not done in vain, for Robin was now quite content
His whimsicality repealed, replaced by a true child’s portent.
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