My Old Sax

my grade nine band fumbled
thru any note inked
on sheet

and warm-ups just left the
flute kids winded with
numb lips,

so, i shelved ol’ tenor sax
home where he

at furthest reach from me,
the band’s worst cheat
and critic-

but that horn never learned
to play me, our sound
lost somewhere in
the clamor

so, i skipped out on
concert night-

and missed the sweet-spot
where chaos turned

all my old sax ever wanted
was a set o’ lungs he
could blow strong

and a chance to play




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