Tapping to an unheard beat,
The unheard cords,
An unseen vocal,
The once heard has gone.
Once your able to hear,
You'll hear the unknown,
The mystical vocals,
The cords,
They all have come.
The unheard beat is heard,
The tapping fades,
Comes to playing along.
They march along,
With the mighty beat,
The beat has become the soul,
The march of youths,
They march on,
In a field of green,
In step with the mighty beat.
The tapping has gone,
To come with the sound of marching,
The trembling bang of drums,
The light shrill sound of winds,
The soft sounds of wooden winds.
The mighty sound of brass.
The tapping has stopped,
Leaving the beat of marching,
Once opon the emerald field of green,
They leave the field,
Only leaving the memories of the mighty beat.
YOU ARE READING
A Book Of Poems
PoesiaIf you love reading poems, then you'll love the ones I write. So just keep an eye out for my poems plus I'm gonna make a book of my poems, but not all are related.
