Fretful parents twitter
whilst noncommittal teens
idle in their wake.
Thumbing nervously at tired scores
painful minutes are filled
with times, places & tuning.
Junior drinks a coke.
All the years of sacrifice
the money, the mileage,
the hours of practice & encouragement
didn’t they deserve the fruits?
Alexander chews a nail
and eyes a passing female.
Glancing from their agitation
their hopes are swallowed by the lift.
God help him if he lets them down.
The lift returns.
Bringing fear — sharp as a tack.
Gabbling, they fill the space between them
“Did you make any mistakes?
Were you relaxed?
You didn’t mumble,
tell me you didn’t mumble?
For Christ’s sake speak up will you.
HOW WAS IT!”
“OK” he said
his thoughts already on a burger.
(Written whilst assisting in the running of a National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain audition day)