A Second Home


United States
48° 16' 37.7832" N, 121° 45' 27.6264" W

Morning, afternoon, night
I walk in
The white tiled floors,
covered in spit,
and dust,
and never cleaned quite right.
The walls
literally filled with pictures
of band kids past.
It's morning and I see kids,
bolting down the hallway
at 6:59.
Almost late, as always.
The ones who are there
are repeatedly playing tunes
from years ago that they
shouldn't really remember,
but do anyways.
It's lunchtime and
a collection of butt-forming chairs
and disheveled stands
create a makeshift table
for friends to laugh around.
They talk about their day,
grab their instruments,
and with 5 minutes left to the bell,
quickly shove their food
into their mouths.
Evening approaches and
one by one,
kids arrive.
The older ones dressed in
navy blue,
high-waisted pants,
with a hat that is never
quite on straight.
The younger ones
come running in the room,
chattering excitedly
decked out in the schools
somehow appealing colors.
The game ends,
kids stay until the very last second
while their parents
sit annoyed in their cars.
When everyone's finally kicked out
and the room is empty,
you can't quite get rid of
the excitement.
A new dawn,
a new day,
a new adventure.
All in my second home.





I can relate. I'm in marching band. But great job.

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741