Six strings.

Eighty two.

Eighty two keys.

A box of reeds.

And where does it all take you?

A different world waits for you

On the other side of these small aspects of your instruments

They're the building blocks

That can take you to the feelings that you don't know how to express

You build, you break, and you breathe

And music is made.

How could I live if I did not have music

It moves me.  It moves mountains.

It can fix a soul.

It can make you dance, cry, feel.

It can do pretty much everything.

If it wasn't around, where would we turn?

The birds wouldn't sing

The auditoriums wouldn't echo.

The world would be quiet and lonely with out the vibe.

You take it for granted

You don't realize

Music moves you.

You would have less without it.

You need music.

I need music.  

A box of reeds.

Eighty two keys.

Eighty two.

Six strings.


Numbers don't move you.  But you can make them.  

Make music.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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